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Collection  of  i^ortf)  Caroliniana 


This  book  must  not 
be  token  from  the 
Library  building. 


' 


GOOD  GUMPTION 


This  fellotv  is  ivise  enough  to  flay  thefool^ 
And  to  do  that  tvell  craves  a  kind  of  xvit. 

Shakespeare:  Twelfth  Night;  act  iii.,  scene   :. 


Tou  hear  that  boy  laughing  ? — you  think  he's  all  fun  j 
But  the  angels  laugh^  too^  at  the  good  he  has  done. 

Oli\'er  Wendell  Holmes  :   The   Boys ;   stanza  9. 


REVEREND.  C.    A.    JENKENS. 


GOOD  GUMPTION 


OR 


THE  STORY  OF  A  WISE  FOOL 


Being  the  Somewhat  Humoious  Chronicle,  Set  Down  by  Himself,  of 

the  Life  and  Doings  of  the  Reverend  Heredity  Beans,  Doctor  of 

Divinity,  Who  Started  Life  as  a  Patent  Office  Production, 

Was  Looked  upon  by  His  Enemies  and  Others  as  a 

Lunatic,  but  Who  "Got  There"  When   They 

Didn't,  Who  Became  Respected  and  Feared 

as  Weil  as  Loved  and  Honored,  and  Who 

Did  His  Duty  to  God  and  Man. 


By    C.    A.    JENKENS 

Author  of  Some  Unpublished  Jokes,  Numerous  Mistakes,  and  a 
Heap  of  Excellent  but  Rejected  Poetry  on  "Spring." 


W^ITH  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Nashville,  Tenn. 

The  Southwestern  Company 

Waco,  Tex.        Topeka,  Kans.        Macon,  Ga. 


COPYRIGHT.    1S07 

BY 

c 

A  .    JENKENS 

AH  rights  reserved 

To  those  who  have 
GOOD   GUMPTION 

that  they  may  keep  it 

and  to  those  who  haven't 

that  they  may  get  it 

this  book  is  cordially 

DEDICATED 


From  the  croivn  of  his  head  to  the  sole  of  his  foot ^ 
he  is  all  ?}2irth.  .  .  .  He  hath  a  heart  as  sound  as  a 
dell,  and  his  tongue  is  the  clapper ;  for  what  his 
heart  thinks,  his  tongue  speaks. 

Shakespeare:   Much  Ado  About  Nothing;  act  iii.,  scene  3. 


/  cannot  hope  to  entertain  you  ivith  a  merely  hu- 
morous or  facetious  story.  Harlequin  ivithotit  his 
mask  is  knoivn  to  present  a  very  sober  cou?itenance, 
and  was  hitnself  the  story  goes,  the  melancholy  pa- 
tient %vhom  the  doctor  advised  to  go  and  see  Harlequin 
— a  772an  fill  of  cares  and  perplexities  like  the  rest 
of  us,  whose  self  must  always  be  serious  to  him, 
under  whatever  mask  or  disguise  or  uniform  he  pre- 
sents hitnself  to  the  public.  .  .  .  TJic  hufnorous 
writer  professes  to  awaken  and  direct  your  love,  your 
pity,  your  kindness  j  your  scorn  for  untruth,  prete?z- 
siofi,  ifnposturej  yo7ir  tenderness  for  the  weak,  the 
poor,  the  oppressed,  the  unhappy.  To  the  best  of  his 
means  and  ability  he  comme7tts  07i  all  the  ordinary  ac- 
tions a7id passio7is  of  life  ahnost.  He  takes  upo7i  him- 
self to  be  the  xveek-day  preacher^  so  to  speak.  Ac- 
cordingly, as  hefnds,  and  speaks,  a7id feels  the  truth 
best,  we  regard  hi7n,  esteem — so7netitnes  love  him. 

Thackeray:  The  English  Humorists. 


The  Contents 

Page 

Foreword 13 

Introduction  by  Montgomery  F.  Essig.  15 

Chapter 

I.  Keeping  up  the  Stock 19 

II.  Passing  of  the  Circus." 28 

III.  The  Show's  Aftermath 40 

IV.  Stampeded   Hornets 46 

V.  Toadville's  Barbecue 54 

VI.  The  Capers  of  Cupid 64 

VII.  The  SpelHng  Bee 76 

VIII.  Reviving  Shouting  Church 88 

IX.  I  Do  Some  Courting 102 

X.  At  Sheepskin  College 114 

XI.  A  $75,000  Farce 126 

XII.  I  Go  to  the  War 138 

XIII.  Starting  in  Life 150 

XIV.  Blindfolded  Justice 168 

XV.  Innocence  Abroad 184 

XVI.  Among  the  Witches 198 

XVII.  Paying  the  Hotel  Bill 206 

XVIII.  I  Raise  Some  Spirits 226 

XIX.  The  House  That  Jack  Built 238 

XX.  My  First  Sermon 250 

XXL  Miss  Sook  Shoestrings 262 

(9) 


10  The  Contents 

Chapter  Page 

XXII.  Sennacherib  Tongs  Weds 274 

XXIII.  I  Become  a  Married  Man 28.? 

XXIV.  A  Pastoral  Visit 29c 

XXV.  Cupid  Gone  Mad 298 

XXVI.  A  Sack  of  Socks 306 

XXVII.  New  Responsibilities 320 

XXVIII.  The  Average  Girl 332 

XXIX.  A  Saturday  Diary 342 

XXX.  The  Mantle  of  Elijah 358 

XXXI.  And  What  Is  Man? 372 

XXXII.  Shouting  Church's  Fate 386 

XXXIII.  My   Autobiography 394 


The  Illustrations 


Page 

Frontispiece,  portrait  of  C.  A.  Jenkens 4 

"'The  stock  must  be  kept  up,  for  there's  virtue  in  good 

blood"    21 

"I  came  upon  my  father  standing  upon  a  box  reading  the 

show  bills" 31 

*'As  for  my  mother's  husband,  he  had  assumed  the  role 

of  clown" 43 

■'The  hornets,  angry  at  such  treatment,  issued  forth".  ...      51 
"If  there  cc-uld  be  anything  in  wind,  the  canal  was  a  sure 

thing"    59 

"  'Let's  be  sweethearts,  Red'  " JTi 

"My  father  clapped  his  hands,  exclaiming,  'Knowledge  is 

power!'" 83 

"  'We  expect  to  hear  from  you  immediately,  sister.     .     .     . 

Give  a  lusty  shout  for  the  Lord'  " 97 

"  'Sweetest  sugar,'  I  said,  with  dripping  softness.  'I  have 

come  to — '  " 107 

"I  imagined  I  had  pulled  the  spigot  out  of  a  volcano".  ...    117 
"Taking  out  my  shabby  old  purse,  I  invited  the  youth  to 
look  within  and  report  to  the  Eagle  Emporium  v.hat 

he  saw" 135 

"Immediately  inverting  the  order  of  Bucephalus's  extrem- 
ities    ...     I  fired  both  barrels  of  my  gun  toward 

the  blue  dome  of  heaven" 147 

"What  should  I  do  for  a  living?" 151 

"The  counsel  for  the  defense  arose,  and  in  a  bland,  seduc- 
tive manner  addressed  the  immaculate  twelve" 175 

"I     .     .     .     arrived  at  length  at  the  scene  of  the  fire".  ..  .    189 
"The  lights  were  immediately  turned  on  and  revealed  an 
audience  standing  on  tiptoe,  gazing  upon  a  captured 

ghost"    203 

"  'Go  'long,  muley ;  go  on,  sir,'  shrieked  the  irate  priestess 
of  benevolence" 221 

CO 


12  The  Illustrations 

Page 

"  'Story  !  Story  !  Big  story !  It's  not  so,  Mr,  Thomp- 
son ;  I'm  only  an  advanced  girl,'  ejaculated  Miss  Dor- 
othy"     •  •  •    233 

"Behold !  I  saw,  as  in  a  vision,  my  church  blown  to  pieces 
by  a  violent  storm" 247 

"  '  That's  my  boy,  gentlemen.  Open  both  your  ears  to- 
day.    It's  in  him;  I  tell  you  it's  in  him'  " 259 

"  'Brother  Beans,  see  that  gal  lookin'  like  she  wa'n't  think- 
in'  'bout  nothin'?  She  ain't  no  idiot.  Brother  Beans, 
Sook   ain't'  " 269 

"Finally  I  took  out  my  treasure,  opened  the  envelope,  and 
behold  !  it  was  a  marriage  license" 279 

"I  somewhat  unceremoniously  grabbed  what  I  thought 
was  the  bride" 287 

*'  'For  the  sake  of  decency,  go  home  and  take  off  your 
gaudy  riggings,  .  .  .  wash  the  children,  and  say 
your  prayers'  " 293 

"And  there  entered  a  maiden  lady,  on  whose  brow  had 
sported  the  joyous  zephyrs  of  at  least  sixty-five  sum- 
mers, followed  by  a  timid  youth  of  seventeen" 299 

"Opening  the  mouth  of  my  sack,  I  transferred  five  pairs  of 
socks   to  Pat's  possession" 315 

"I  ran  obliviously  into  the  pulpit  and  gave  out  the  3000th 

hymn"    327 

"  'She  plays  one  air  and  puts  on  ten  thousand'  " 337 

"  'I'm  your  wife's  cousin's  sister's  uncle's  nephew's  broth- 
er's niece's  son  by  step-marriage'  " 347 

"I  began  parading  the  streets  with  a  banner  on  one  side  of 
which  were  emblazoned  the  Ten  Commandments  and 
on  the  other  a  cross" 361 

"At  the  mayor's  ofiice,  the  Irish  sister,  among  others,  do- 
nated a  pair  of  twins,  to  the  -hilarious  amusement  of 
many  spectators" 377 

"  'Shoutin'  Church  is  like  unto  the  seven  churches  of  Asia, 
which  was  blotted  off'n  the  face  of  the  airth'  " 387 

"  'I  want  you  to  jot  down  a  few  items  which  I  neglected 
to  give  my  biographer'  " 395 


Foreword 

Good  Gumption  was  designed  by  its  author,  the 
Reverend  C.  A.  Jenkens,  of  Statesville,  N.  C,  to  serve 
two  strong  purposes.  First  and  foremost,  it  is  a  pro- 
test against  sham,  hypocrisy,  cant,  and  humbuggery, 
without  mercy  for  either  the  age,  sex,  or  rank  of  the 
persons  in  whom  these  evils  are  manifested.  Sec- 
ondly, it  is  a  plea  for  the  man  from  the  country — the 
individual  usually  pictured  and  described  as  a  boorish, 
brainless,  unlettered  "easy  mark,"  but  who,  neverthe- 
less, is  the  backlDone  of  his  nation,  whether  American, 
British,  German,  French,  or  Russian.  Outwardly  the 
book  is  a  work  of  humor ;  inwardly  it  is  as  serious  a 
story  as  ever  was  written. 

Long  ago  Mr.  Jenkens  determined  to  write  some- 
thing that  would  strip  the  mask  from  those  men  and 
women  who  impose  themselves  upon  the  world  as 
good  citizens  and  Christians,  but  who,  at  heart,  are 
emissaries  of  the  Evil  One.  Consideration  of  the 
scheme  of  the  work,  however,  revealed  the  necessity 
of  broadening  it  to  embrace  other  forms  of  humbug- 
gery than  the  mere  religious  fraud.  Air.  Jenkens 
found  great  difficulty  in  deciding  what  medium  to 
employ  for  the  expression  of  his  thoughts.  He  knew 
only  too  well  that  he  might  be  gifted  with  the  pen  of 
a  prophet  and  yet  fail  to  convince  his  readers,  that 
he  might  shout  his  message  from  the  housetops  and 
yet  fail  to  reach  the  ears  of  the  hurrving  multitude 

(13) 


14  Foreword 

below,  and  that  he  might  address  his  pubHc  in  all 
seriousness  and  yet  fail  to  have  it  learn  the  lesson  he 
sought  to  teach.  And  he  knew,  too,  that  people  like 
to  be  amused,  and  that  the  greatest  of  statesmen,  ora- 
tors, and  teachers  never  have  scorned  to  press  home 
great  truths  by  means  of  a  funny  story.  So  grew  the 
idea  of  Heredity  Beans,  a  country  parson,  who  seemed 
to  be  a  fool,  but  wasn't,  who  had  to  figure  out  for  him- 
self the  right  way  to  live  and  then  to  live  it,  and  who 
crusaded  against  evils  with  the  devoted  purpose  of  a 
knight  of  chivalry  and  the  mental  alertness  of  a  Gov- 
ernor Folk. 

In  describing  the  rise  of  his  hero  from  backwoods 
lad  to  metropolitan  pastor,  Mr.  Jenkens  grasped  the 
opportunity  thus  afforded  to  show  how  the  straight- 
forward, honest,  unsophisticated  countryman,  after 
all,  is  the  true  type  of  national  manhood.  And  so  Mr. 
Jenkens's  book  took  shape  as  a  work  of  humor — 
something  funny — a  satire  upon  men,  women,  and 
things  that  are  humbugs  masquerading  in  the  guise 
of  good — a  jest,  if  you  will,  but  a  jest  in  earnest;  a 
joke,  but  a  joke  with  a  great,  grim,  practical  truth 
behind  it. 


Introduction 

While  mankind  exists  no  age  will  be  without  its 
evils  in  persons  and  things.  Sometimes  the  person  is 
the  cause  of  the  evil  in  the  thing ;  sometimes  the  thing 
breeds  evil  in  the  person.  Some  men  do  wrong  be- 
cause they  like  it,  others  because  they  ^re  forced  to  do 
it;  but  more  than  either  of  these'  classes  do  wrong 
and  try  to  hide  it  because  they  want  their  fellows  to 
think  they  are  doing  right. 

In  this  class  are  to  be  found  the  shams,  hypocrites, 
humbugs,  frauds,  grafters,  and  the  political,  financial, 
and  social  parasites  that  so  plentifully  blot  modern 
civilization.  It  is  this  class,  too,  that  is  hardest  to 
detect  and  most  difficult  to  suppress.  Science  is  nul- 
lifying rapidly  many  of  the  great  evils  that  for- 
merly flourished,  popular  government  is  eradicating 
others,  and  wise  legislation  and  administration  still 
others;  but  the  sham,  the  humbug,  the  hypocrite,  and 
the  fraud  continue  to  eke  out  their  existence  and 
dodge  the  hands  that  attempt  to  root  them  out.  Dou- 
ble-faced, nimble-footed,  and  cunning-minded,  they  are 
always  with  us,  preying  upon  us  with  specious 
schemes,  with  the  evil-hiding  cloak  of  religion,  and 
with  the  glitter  they  would  have  us  believe  gold. 

How  best  can  they  be  fought?  Assuredly  not  by 
learned,  ponderous  essays,  "too  deep"  and  too  dry 
for  the  masses  of  the  people  that  are  the  favorite  prey 
of  the  evil  against  which  they  are  directed.     Assured- 

(^5) 


16  Introduction 

ly  not  by  eloquent  preaching  and  oration,  too  rare  and 
too  easily  misunderstood,  alas !  in  this  practical  age  of 
ours.  Assuredly  not  by  experience,  if  we  are  to  be- 
lieve P.  T.  Barnum's  aphorism  that  people  like  to  be 
humbugged.  And  to  the  hypocrite  and  the  humbug 
government  and  legislation  alike  are  impotent. 

Why  not  fight  them  with  humor,  with  the  shafts 
of  satire,  with  the  clubs  of  ridicule  and  caricature? 
Many  an  evil  man  who  failed  to  yield  to  the  thunder  of 
spoken  or  written  denunciation  or  dodged  the  pursuit 
of  legislation  has  been  forced  to  hide  his  head  from 
the  derision  of  the  wit,  cartoonist,  and  fun-maker. 
Why?  Because  it  is  not  in  the  nature  of  mankind  to 
resist  such  things.  It  hurts  a  man  more  to  laugh  at 
him  than  to  fight  him.  Too  often  he  can  fight  back 
and  fight  better,  or  at  least  with  more  cunning  than 
his  antagonist.  But  for  the  evil  man  or  the  evil  thing 
to  laugh  back  is  well-nigh  impossible.  The  amusing, 
the  comic,  the  laughable  often  is  more  potent  than  the 
serious,  the  learned,  the  argumentative.  Commodore 
Vanderbilt,  who  knew  human  nature  pretty  thorough- 
ly, once  sought  to  entertain  a  party  of  guests  by  ofifer- 
ing  them  a  highly  scientific  lecture  by  a  noted  special- 
ist in  astronomy.  The  learned  lecturer  received  a 
neat  check  for  his  discourse,  but  the  entertainment 
was  not  a  success.  The  next  night  a  specialist  in 
humor  was  engaged.  Measuring  the  man's  value  by 
the  results  of  his  work,  Vanderbilt  gave  him  a  check 
for  more  than  four  times  the  sum  paid  to  the  man  of 
science,  observing  that  the  money  had  been  better 
earned. 

The  author  of  this  book,  which  is  designed  to  fight 


Introduction  17 

the  sham,  the  hypocrite,  and  the  humbug,  has  seen  fit 
to  do  battle  with  the  weapons  of  the  humorist.  His 
Heredity  Beans,  country  lad,  preacher,  crusader,  and 
reformer,  is  a  strong  type.  He  strikes  at  the  heart  of 
things.  He  spares  none  of  the  falsities  of  life.  The 
sham  revivalist,  the  sham  lawyer,  the  sham  editor, 
the  sham  pastor,  the  sham  man  and  the  sham  woman, 
sham  justice  and  sham  religion  receive  their  thrashing 
at  his  hands.  In  creating  him  the  author  makes  us 
laugh,  but  with  his  keen  satire  he  realizes  Dryden's 
truism,  "The  end  of  satire  is  the  amendment  of  vices 
by  correction,"  as  well  as  the  truth  of  Frederick  the 
Great's  view  of  it,  "The  connection  between  vice  and 
meanness  is  a  fit  subject  for  satire,  but  when  the  satire 
is  a  fact  it  cuts  with  the  irresistible  power  of  a  dia- 
mond." 

And  this  is  the  weapon  the  author  of  Good  Gump- 
tion wields — a  strong,  sharp,  clean-cutting  sword 
which  cleaves  its  way  into  the  mass  of  sham  and  error 
he  has  found  in  the  world  and  among  men,  laying  bare 
their  hypocricies,  discovering  their  shame,  and  perrriit- 
ting  his  readers  to  see  the  evil  hearts  that  beat  under 
the  otherwise  fair  surfaces. 

Follow  Heredity  Beans  from  the  hour  of  his  birth 
and  you  will  find  him  constantly  turning  up  the  falsi- 
ties and  absurdities  with  which  men  and  women  hood- 
wink their  fellow-men  and  women,  and  exposing  their 
follies,  frailties,  and  foibles.  Even  his  father,  with 
his  absurd  caveat,  he  does  not  spare.  The  shallow, 
money-making  evangelist  comes  in  for  a  share  of  his 
ridicule.  The  youth  Toothpick,  proud  of  his  birth  and 
fortune  and  yet  a  loser  in  the  game  of  love,  has  his 


18  Introduction 

counterpart  in  many,  many  instances  of  real  life.  And 
how  often  do  we  hear  from  our  courts  of  justice  just 
such  stories  as  Heredity  tells  in  the  case  of  Turnipins, 
and  again  how  often  do  we  see  in  real  life  just  such 
falsities  as  Beans  shows  us  he  found  on  his  visit  to 
Philadelphia. 

And  still  again  how  often  do  we  see  just  such  ef- 
feminate, silly,  and  heresy-teaching  preachers  as  the 
individual  the  Reverend  Mr.  Beans  told  to  go  and  take 
himself  out  of  the  world.  Notice  also  the  advertise- 
ment of  patent  medicine  which  Beans  concocted,  and 
observe  how  like  it  is  to  the  advertisements  of  the  cure- 
all  remedies  one  sees  in  the  papers  or  displayed  upon 
bill  boards.  Notice  again  his  chapter  on  the  average 
girl.  It  is  no  insult  to  the  good  womanhood  of  our 
land  to  write  such  things,  for  alas,  it  only  too  true 
that  many  girls  nowadays  are  nothing  like  the  capable, 
intelligent,  and  frugal  housewives  that  their  mothers 
and  grandmothers  were.  In  this  respect,  at  least, 
modern  education  and  modern  society  have  done  little 
to  commend  themselves  to  mankind.  Certainly  Hered- 
ity Beans'  experience  with  the  average  girl  was  a  real 
one.  And  to  crown  it  all,  how  like  humanity  is  it  that 
Beans,  at  the  prime  of  his  career,  should  sit  down  to 
dictate  a  biography  of  himself  that  should  be  pub- 
lished after  his  death.  It  is  true  indeed  that  "all  is 
vanity." 

To  all  who  love  truth  as  well  as  to  all  who  love  fun. 
Good  Gumption  should  prove  a  mine  of  amusement 
as  well  as  a  field  for  fruitful  and  profitable  thought. 

Montgomery  F.  Essig. 

Nashville,  Tenn.,  i  February,  1907. 


KEEPING    UP   THE   STOCK 


Chapter  I. 


Cucumber  Beans  was  my  father — that's  the  rea- 
son I  am  his  son. 

He  was  an  ardent  behever  in  heredity,  and  held  that 
good  blood  is  the  basis  of  all  nobility  and  genius,  and 
that  to  improve  the  blood  of  the  human  race  is  the  gos- 
pel of  nature  and  the  goal  of  philosophy.  Bad  stock, 
he  argued,  is  the  sole  cause  of  pauperism,  riot,  crime, 
and  war.  "A  man  is  the  sum  of  his  antecedents,"  he 
declared.  "Improve  the  stock,  and  you  hasten  the 
Millennium." 

Thus  heredity,  antecedents,  environment,  stock,  and 
blood  were  large  and  meaningful  words  in  my  father's 
vocabulary ;  but  this  is  no  marvel,  since  he  claimed  an 
ancestry  threading  its  way  back  through  the  centuries 
to  Alfred  the  Great,  whose  distinction  was  due  to  his 
good  blood.  Starting  with  this  royal  founder,  he  rec- 
ognized as  branches  of  the  family  tree  Sir  Isaac  New- 
ton, Dr.  Samuel  Johnson,  and  Wordsworth  the  poet, 
in  England;  and  in  America,  Washington,  William 
Cullen  Bryant,  and  himself.  He  was  known  frequent- 
ly to  observe  that  the  family  had  improved  with  each 
generation,  and,  in  all  likelihood,  would  be  perfected  in 
his  offspring.  Since  I  am  that  offspring,  modesty 
forbids  further  comment. 

(^9) 


20  Good  Gumption 

My  father,  in  his  later  hfe,  loved  Darwin  with  no 
common  love,  and  studied,  with  the  enthusiasm  of  a 
specialist,  the  great  naturalist's  theories  regarding  the 
evolution  of  living  things,  including  man,  from  the 
lower  forms  of  life.  But  long  before  Darwin  gave  his 
theories  to  the  world  my  father  had  thought  out  and 
perfected  his  own.  Therefore,  try  as  he  might  and  re- 
spect the  great  scientist  as  he  did,  he  always  declared 
Darwin's  ideas  were  simply  a  development — logical 
enough  in  view  of  the  advance  of  science — of  the  great 
Beans  hypothesis.  And  so  he  learned  by  heart  the  cele- 
brated story  of  the  tame  pigeons  transported  to  an  un- 
inhabited island  where  their  descendants,  freed  from 
the  care  and  constant  attention  of  civilization,  lost  the 
beautiful  ornamentations  of  color  and  marking  which 
had  characterized  their  civilized  ancestors,  and  doffing 
their  bright  spots,  rings,  and  stripes,  put  on  the  dark 
blue  of  the  old  original  type.  There  is  just  as  real  a 
"reversion  to  type"  in  the  case  of  mankind  as  in  that  of 
pigeons,  he  contended ;  and  on  this  broad  principle  he 
explained  the  treachery  of  Judas,  the  inhumanity  of 
Nero,  the  infidelity  of  Thomas  Paine,  and,  in  later 
years,  the  lunacy  of  Mrs.  Mary  Baker  Eddy.  All 
downward  tendencies  being  regarded  as  demonstra- 
tions of  this  law,  his  favorite  maxim  was  "The  stock 
must  be  kept  up,  for  there's  virtue  in  good  blood." 

In  view  of  this  pronounced  tendency  on  my  father's 
part,  it  will  not  excite  surprise  when  I  say  that  he 
spent  two  winters  at  a  sanitarium  seeking  to  regain 
the  health  he  had  lost  in  an  attempt  to  solve  the  prob- 
lem as  to  the  best  method  of  producing  perfect  human 
stock.     At  length  his  theory  reached  such  a  stage  of 


'the  stock  must  be  kept  up,  for  there  s  virtue  in  good  blood. 

(21) 


22  Good  Gumption 

development  that  he  formally  applied  through  an  at- 
torney for  a  patent,  but  succeeded  only  in  getting  a 
caveat.  The  application  filed  in  the  Patent  Office  at 
Washington — which  out-Darwined  Darwin  and  ante- 
dated him  as  well — set  forth  the  following: 

Genius  seems  to  grow  in  forks,  without  symmetry,  bal- 
ance, or  unity.  This  is  due  to  the  faulty  processes  of  hered- 
ity, and  can  be  prevented  only  by  due  observance  of  the  laws 
of  natural  fitness.  It  is  a  defect  in  selection  when  genius  is 
imperfect.  It  is  a  solecism  for  a  great  man  to  be  noted  for 
any  one  thing ;  for  he  should  be  noted  for  everything  alike. 
The  great  men  of  the  ages  are  potent  illustrations  of  defective 
hereditation  [you'll  notice  he  coined  a  word  to  fit  his  theory], 
none  of  them  being  noted  for  a  variety  of  excellencies  and 
powers,  but  all  monotonously  remarkable  for  only  one  thing. 
For  example,  when  Napoleon  Bonaparte  is  mentioned,  we  do 
not  think  of  poetry,  music,  literature,  or  statesmanship,  but 
only  of  blood  and  war.  He  is  a  warrior,  and  nothing  more 
— strong  in  only  one  point.  On  the  other  hand,  when  Jeffer- 
son is  mentioned,  we  do  not  think  of  battles,  but  of  statecraft 
and  government.     He  is  of  interest  to  us  in  one  function  only. 

So  we  associate  only  one  idea  generally  with  every  great 
man.  Aristotle  stands  for  logic ;  Plato  for  philosophy ; 
Shakespeare  for  poetry ;  Washington  for  patriotism ;  Cicero 
for  eloquence  ;  Rothschild  for  money  ;  Moses  for  law  ;  St.  Paul 
for  religion  ;  Jenny  Lind  for  song ;  Beethoven  for  music  ;  Hum- 
boldt for  learning;  and  Cucumber  Beans  for  discoveries  in 
heredity. 

These  are  all  one-sided  and  deformed  characters.  Genius 
should  be  remarkable  for  everything — that  is,  it  should  be  uni- 
versal. For  instance,  the  ideal  man  should  have  the  logical 
trend  of  Aristotle,  the  philosophical  astuteness  of  Plato,  the 
poetic  gift  of  Homer,  the  artistic  sense  of  Raphael,  Michael 
Angelo,  or  Landseer,  the  statesmanship  of  William  Pitt,  the 
heroism  of  Leonidas,  the  martial  spirit  of  Alexander,  the  elo- 
quence of   Demosthenes,  the  mathematical   genius  of  Euclid, 


Keeping  Up  the  Stock  23 

the  inventive  talent  of  Fulton,  the  musical  sense  of  Handel, 
the  linguistic  power  of  Mezzofanti,  the  physical  strength  of  a 
Samson,  and  the  beauty  of  an  Apollo.  This  composite  char- 
acter, which  is  at  once  the  world's  greatest  need  and  greatest 
problem,  can  be  produced  when  the  beneficent  laws  of  evolu- 
tion have  been  heeded  by  mankind. 

The  undersigned  prays  for  letters  patent  on  "A  Discovery 
of  the  Natural  Method  for  the  Production  of  Universal  Gen- 
ius." The  processes  on  which  protection  is  craved  are  set 
forth  as  follows :  Since  the  quality  of  the  stock  determines 
the  existence  and  scope  of  genius,  the  adaptability  of  parties 
contracting  marriage  to  each  other  is  of  prime  importance. 
Each  should  be  the  most  perfect  specimen  of  the  physical, 
mental,  and  moral  homo,  each  suited  to  the  other  by  the  best 
possible  natural  and  spiritual  combinations.  Hence  lunatics, 
idiots,  and  fools  should  not  marry.  This  necessary  arrange- 
ment would  reduce  the  quantity  but  increase  the  quality,  there- 
by hastening  the  race  to  its  perfect  goal. 

Moreover,  it  is  an  indispensable  condition  that  no  member 
of  a  family  in  which  there  has  been  a  defaulter,  criminal, 
drunkard,  sneak,  or  knave  shall  enter  the  marital  state.  No 
person  coming  from  stock  inclined  to  infidelity,  atheism,  sui- 
cide, or  divorce  should  enter  into  matrimony,  since  such  stock 
can  produce  only  a  degenerate  species.  Further,  a  low  brow, 
a  decayed  tooth,  a  cross  eye,  freckles,  moles,  or  warts*  should 
prove  barriers  to  wedlock.  The  law  of  heredity  prevents  also 
from  entering  into  the  marriage  state  all  ugly  people,  women 
with  shrill  voices  or  mustaches,  men  who  talk  through  the  nose, 
or  have  bowlegs,  and  all  specimens  of  stock  subject  to  gossip 
or  other  disease.  Before  marriage,  the  family  records  should 
be  inspected  by  an  oflficer  duly  appointed  by  the  law,  to  see 
that  these  precautions  are  complied  with. 

Ages  should  be  adjusted;  for  the  union  of  a  girl  of  sixteen 
and  a  man  of  fifty  is  a  crime  against  nature.  There  should  be, 
furthermore,  harmony  of  form,  hair,  eyes,  size,  tastes,  and 
intellectual  and  moral  affinities. 

In  the  production  of  universal  genius,  the  laws  of  environ- 


24  Good  Gumption 

ment  as  well  as  those  of  heredity,  must  be  considered.  Hence 
an  infant  should  not  be  allowed  to  taste  bad  food,  to  smell 
bad  odors,  hear  discordant  sounds,  feel  rough  surfaces,  or 
see  unsightly  objects.  All  the  senses,  from  their  earliest  use, 
should  be  cultivated  assiduously  to  produce  the  perfect  man. 

Parents,  therefore,  should  see  to  it  that  their  offspring  have 
not  their  senses  shocked  b\-  bad  pictures,  harsh  tones,  grating 
voices,  ungraceful  movements,  untidy  rooms,  the  popping  of 
firecrackers  or  other  explosives,  or  the  barking  of  dogs.  Nor 
should  the  babe  be  startled  by  the  scream  of  a  cat,  the  hoot 
of  an  owl,  the  crow  of  a  cock,  or  the  yell  of  a  boy.  The 
mother  should  speak  only  in  soft  notes,  never  harshly  or 
angrily,  and  sing  only  the  sweetest  melodies ;  and  the  father 
should  not  sing  at  all  until  the  sense  of  sound  has  been  fairly 
developed  in  the  child.  The  baby  carriage  should  be  wheeled 
only  along  the  most  beautiful  streets  and  through  the  parks, 
never  entering  the  alleys  and  back  streets,  lest  the  child  should 
behold  some  object  likely  to  deform  its  sense  of  beauty.  It 
never  must  be  permitted  for  a  moment  to  become  the  victim 
of  mosquitoes,  flies,  or  gnats,  lest  bad  impressions  be  made  that 
will  give  rise  to  wrong  views  of  life. 

The  Patent  Office  man  recognized  the  originality 
and  profundity  of  the  document  from  which  the  above 
is  extracted,  but  modestly  suggested  that  he  feared 
the  conditions  could  be  met  only  in  the  latter  part  of 
the  Millennium.  Father,  however,  insisted  that  there 
could  be  no  Millennium  until  the  postulates  advocated 
should  be  accepted  as  the  basis  of  civilization.  Be 
that  as  it  may,  the  experiment  was  tried  on  me,  and 
worked  well. 

My  name  is  Heredity  Beans ;  for  short,  they  called 
me  "Red"  Beans.  At  my  birth,  the  rooster  was  ban- 
ished from  the  yard,  the  old  eight-day  clock  was  muf- 
fled, and  the  door-bell  was  removed  in  order  that  I 


Keeping  Up  the  Stock  25 

might  not  have  my  musical  sense  impaired.  This  was 
the  negative  arrangement;  on  the  positive  side,  my 
father  w^as  playing  an  air  on  an  old  accordion,  a  verita- 
ble heirloom,  in  order  that  my  powers  of  harmony 
might  be  quickened  at  the  start.  Garlic  and  onions 
were  banished  from  the  premises,  lest  evil  should  be- 
fall my  olfactory  organs.  The  best  pictures  were  ar- 
ranged on  the  walls  of  the  room,  and  every  other  pre- 
caution taken  to  promote  artistic  vision,  according  to 
the  provisions  of  the  caveat. 

I  had  all  the  diseases  that  a  first-class  baby  ought  to 
have,  and  particularly  a  full  assortment  of  the  thrash, 
which  I  caught  from  my  father  whenever  my  wakeful 
idiosyncrasies  demanded  a  promenade  in  the  night. 
My  parent  betrayed  here  his  usual  judgment,  failing  to 
observe  that  I  possessed  an  active  brain,  and  an  in- 
quiring turn  of  mind.  He  also  forgot  that  I  was  born 
in  my  native  land,  and  that,  as  a  true  patriot,  I  wished 
to  know  something  of  my  country.  Who  would  enter 
a  strange  land  and  be  stupid  enough  to  sleep  forever 
while  most  novel  and  interesting  events  momentarily 
were  taking  place?  Who  would  be  so  insensible  as  to 
close  his  eyes  to  the  charming  beauties  and  curious 
sights  of  a  new  country?  Every  moment  disclosed 
novel  objects  of  interest — every  hour  introduced  won- 
ders to  my  attention. 

Of  course,  such  phenomena  made  due  impressions 
on  my  plastic  faculties,  and,  in  attempting  to  grapple 
with  them,  I  simply  followed  the  law  of  my  nature. 
Forsooth,  because  I  was  natural,  I  must  be  swung  in  a 
cradle  and  have  a  funeral  dirge  sung  over  me,  or  be 
jerked  into  a  mild  spasm,  and  scolded,  or  be  bounced 


26  Good  Gumption 

up  and  down  on  the  floor,  at  the  rate  of  forty  miles  an 
hour,  as  if  I  had  done  something.  Was  there  any 
caveat  for  that,  I  wonder? 

When  all  other  remedies  failed,  I  was  overpowered, 
thrown  back  on  a  pillow,  gagged,  and  made  to  swal- 
low a  small  apothecary  shop.  This  treatment  seemed 
weird  in  the  extreme.  I  wanted  to  inquire  about  the 
lamp — I  had  never  seen  a  lamp  before.  I  wanted  to 
see  myself  in  the  looking-glass.  I  wanted  to  get  ac- 
quainted with  my  parents.  I  desired  to  be  social  and 
extend  my  friendships ;  for  my  circle  of  acquaintances 
was  very  small.  And  for  this  commendable  spirit  I 
was  abused.    Yet  I  said  nothing. 

Does  not  that  great  document,  the  Constitution  of 
the  United  States,  declare  that  all  men  are  born  free 
and  equal?  Then,  if  a  man  can  lie  awake  all  night 
with  impunity,  why  should  a  baby's  liberties  be  cur- 
tailed because  of  insomnolence  ?  I  insist  just  here  that 
the  United  States,  having  adopted  the  sentiment  above 
mentioned,  ought  to  arise  from  the  lethargy  of  a  cen- 
tury and  defend  the  rights  of  so  numerous  and  respect- 
able a  class  of  its  citizens  when  they  cry.  But  when  I 
cried  I  only  got  paregoric.  In  spite  of  all  this,  I  was 
my  mother's  favorite  child — she  had  but  one — and  she 
must  have  thought  a  great  deal  of  me,  for  she  bought 
out  a  drug-store,  when  I  was  but  two  weeks  old,  to 
make  me  comfortable.  At  all  events,  that's  my  fa- 
ther's affidavit,  and  he  ought  to  know — for  it  broke 
him. 

My  physical  sufferings  were  slight  compared  with 
the  pangs  of  intellect  I  endured  in  my  infancy.  I  re- 
member especially  the  mortification  I  underwent  at  the 


Keeping  Up  the  Stock  27 

strange  antics  of  my  parents.  For  instance,  my  fa- 
ther would  seize  me  frantically,  hold  me  up  at  arms' 
length  over  his  head  in  the  air,  look  straight  up  at  me, 
and  laugh ;  then  he  \\ould  spread  out  my  heels,  let  my 
stomach  come  down  on  his  head,  and  then  ruh  my  face 
against  his  nose.  These  capers  seemed  so  foolish  that 
I  often  wept.  And  my  mother,  too,  would  do  and  say 
such  odd  things.  She  would  address  me  as  "feety  itsy 
sing."  There  is  no  such  language;  how  could  she 
expect  me  to  understand  it?  She  would  not  accost  a 
goat  that  way.  T  was  greatly  grieved.  At  other 
times  she  greeted  me  on  waking  as  "oo  precious  lub- 
bie  angle."  It  appeared  to  me  to  be  inexpressibly  silly 
that  my  parents  should  do  such  things,  and  I  was 
ashamed  of  their  conduct. 

Having  passed  with  considerable  credit  through  my 
pupilage  in  gnawing  rattles,  butting  my  head  against 
the  floor,  and  mashing  my  fingers  in  the  door,  I  was 
at  length  garbed  in  pants,  and  put  in  possession  of  a 
hobbyhorse.  This  part  of  my  life  was  without  incident 
further  than  that  when  I  dreamed  of  Indians  scalping 
me,  and,  in  consequence,  kicked  ofif  the  bed  covers 
with  appropriate  fuss,  I  was  denounced  as  a  disturber 
of  sleep,  and  accused  of  eating  too  much  supper.  Then 
I  was  laid  out  in  my  crib  again,  with  a  Webster's  Un- 
abridged Dictionary  on  top  of  me  to  prevent  a  repeti- 
tion of  my  offense.  The  love-sick  maid  may  sing,  "Oh  ! 
make  me  a  child  again  just  for  a  night,"  but  Heredity 
Beans  wouldn't  be  a  child  again  for  a  couple  of  mints 

Still,  allowance  must  be  made  for  my  early  impres- 
sions, since  I  was  very  voune  when  I  was  born. 


PASSING    OF   THE   CIRCUS 


Chapter  II. 

Under  the  gracious  laws  of  heredity  I  increased 
daily  in  innocence  and  wisdom.  My  father  rejoiced 
as  he  observed  my  feats  of  jumping  over  chicken 
coops,  climbing  trees,  and  walking  on  the  roofs  of 
houses ;  and  especially  did  he  express  himself  in  terms 
of  unmeasured  praise  whenever  I  sprang  into  the  air 
and  struck  my  heels  together  three  times  before  touch- 
ing the  ground.  And  it  was  the  more  gratifying  to 
him  because  the  average  boy  does  well  to  crack  his 
heels  together  twice  while  in  the  air.  Indeed,  this 
trick  impressed  my  father  so  profoundly  that  he  tried 
it  himself;  but  seeing  that,  as  a  consequence,  he  suf- 
fered from  a  sprained  ankle  for  three  weeks,  he  gave 
it  up — not  the  ankle,  but  the  trick — maintaining  that 
such  wonderful  control  of  the  muscles  on  my  part  indi- 
cated that  the  stock  had  reached  perfection. 

The  world  seemed  to  me  to  get  bigger  and  bigger 
every  day.  What  an  immense  thing  the  earth  is  to  a 
boy !  When,  however,  it  was  announced  in  the  "Toad- 
ville  Times"  that  John  Robinson's  Huge  and  Unri- 
valed Circus  would  exhibit  at  the  villagfe  two  weeks 
thence,  I  concluded  that  the  globe  could  get  no  larger 
without  serious  injury  to  its  internal  arrangements. 
The  stores  and  fences  of  Toadville  were  adorned  with 

(28) 


Passing  of  the  Circus  29 

flaming  pictures  of  the  world's  great  wonders  in  the 
form  of  gigantic  mules,  accomplished  horses,  dwarf 
ponies,  trained  dogs,  educated  pigs,  a  herd  of  ele- 
phants, giraffes,  monkeys,  birds  of  every  plumage,  wa- 
ter animals,  the  fat  woman,  a  giant,  a  family  of  pyg- 
mies, splendid  chariots  drawn  by  richly  caparisoned 
camels,  and  many  other  sights  that  seemed  possible 
only  in  the  realm  of  the  imagination.  Father  said, 
with  some  vehemence,  that  he  was  sure  he  would  never 
be  caught  at  a  show.  My  mother  added,  with  un- 
wonted emphasis,  that  respectable  people  were  never 
seen  at  such  places;  certainly  it  was  out  of  keeping 
with  the  Beanses.  But  father,  seeming  a  little  excited, 
took  his  beaver  and  said  he  believed  he  would  walk 
down  to  town ;  he  thought  he  needed  a  little  exercise. 
This  was  somewhat  remarkable,  since  he  had  not  in 
five  vears  ventured  down  the  street  at  that  hour  of  the 
afternoon ;  and  Toadville  was  a  full  mile  from  our 
home,  Shakerag. 

When  the  sun  had  set,  father  still  delayed  his  return. 
Tea  was  ready,  but  where  was  he?  Father's  absence 
from  the  evening  meal  (or  indeed  from  any  sort  of  a 
meal)  having  been  unknown  of  late  years,  naturally 
created  anxiety  in  our  home,  so  mother,  now  wrought 
up  to  a  sort  of  ner^'ous  frenzy,  hastened  me  down  the 
street  to  look  him  up. 

'T  know  Mr.  Beans  has  been  robbed,"  said  she,  "or 
sntitten  by  paralysis,  or  attacked  by  apoplexy.  Surely 
something  dreadful  has  happened!"  And  wringing 
her  hands  in  despair,  she  started  in  one  direction  in 
search  of  father,  while  I  darted  off  in  another,  weep- 
ing and  expecting  to  find  my  parent  a  corpse. 


30  Good  Gumption 

But  when  I  reached  the  town,  I  learned  he  had  been 
seen  two  hours  before,  passing  down  Gully  Avenue. 
I  called  at  the  Doctor's  with  fear  and  trembling,  but 
he  was  not  there.  I  inquired  at  the  hotel,  but  he  was 
not  there.  I  never  knew  him  to  be  so  hard  to  find  be- 
fore, and  becoming  alarmed,  moved  the  town  to  a  dili- 
gent search  for  my  lost  parent.  Every  public  place 
was  visited,  every  nook  and  corner  searched,  the 
church  bells  were  rung,  the  fire  engines  called  out,  the 
old  rusty  cannon,  that,  for  half  a  century,  had  done 
the  honors  of  the  day  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  was  shot 
ofif,  and  an  old  drum,  kept  in  the  courthouse  as  a  relic 
of  the  Mexican  War,  was  drubbed  furiously.  But 
music,  even  of  this  elevated  character,  failed  of  the 
end  for  which  it  was  intended,  and  I  was  on  the  eve  of 
returning  with  sad  heart  to  Shakerag,  when  suddenly 
turning  a  corner,  I  came  upon  my  father  standing  on 
a  box  reading  the  show  bills.  His  attitude  betokened 
deepest  interest.  His  spectacles  were  accurately  ad- 
justed and  his  gaze  was  fairly  glued  to  the  pictures  on 
the  billboards. 

"Oh,  my  father/'  shouted  I,  in  a  delirium  of  bliss, 
"I  have  found  you, at  last!" 

"Why,  Heredity,  is  that  you,  my  son?  Yes — oh — 
ah — er — well — so — yes — I  was  just  on  my  way  home 
when — er — ^yes — so — fi — you  say  that's  you,  Heredi- 
ty? Well,  you  see,  Red,  my  eyes  are  dimmed  by  rea- 
son of  years,  and  it  requires  time  to  decipher  these 
grotesque  hieroglyphics,  which  after  all  are  but  a  snare 
for  the  blind.  Red,  avoid  all  appearance  of  evil,  my 
boy,  for  I  have  scruples  on  this  subject.  Broad  is  the 
road  that  leads  to  destruction,  my  son." 


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(31) 


32  Good  Gumption 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  I,  with  subdued  reverence  for  pa- 
rental authority.  ''Is  that  the  gate  you  were  looking 
at  just  now,  father?" 

"Oh!  no,  my  son.  That  is  only  a  common  hoop 
covered  with  cheap  paper,  held  in  the  unsavory  hand 
of  a  painted  clown,  through  which  is  about  to  leap  a 
profane  acrobat.  And,  my  boy,  carefully  watch  the 
wiles  of  the  Dev — "  But  the  last  syllable  was  not  ut- 
tered, for  mother,  with  eyes  bathed  in  tears,  came 
rushing  up. 

"Cuke  Beans,"  she  exclaimed,  in  broken  sobs,  "what 
on  earth  are  you  doing  here  in  the  dark  gazing  at 
these  vulgar  posters?  Are  you  sick,  Cucumber 
Beans?  Is  your  mind  right?  Have  your  morals  ex- 
ploded all  of  a  sudden  ?  And,  pray,  what  has  become 
of  all  your  high  theories  about  blood,  and  stock,  and 
environment  set  forth  in  that  Patent  Office  caveat, 
which,  you  say,  is  the  profoundest  document  ever 
penned  by  man?    Just  answer  me,  Cuke  Beans!" 

My  father's  head  drooped,  and  in  solemn  accents  he 
replied:  "The  wise  man  has  said,  'There  is  a  time  to 
keep  silence.'  That  time  is  now."  So  we  all  returned 
in  pensive  mood  to  our  home  at  Shakerag — and  fami- 
ly prayer  was  omitted  that  night. 

For  several  days  my  father  seemed  engrossed  with 
some  curious-looking  papers,  which  I  took  to  be  docu- 
ments of  great  importance,  since  they  were  scrupu- 
lously guarded  from  all  observation  but  his  own. 
Great  government  briefs  relating  to  the  caveat  from 
Washington,  D,  C,  thought  I.  But  one  morning  as 
father  was  chasing  a  pig  out  of  the  yard,  an  unsympa- 
thetic clothesline  removed  his  beaver,  in  which  he  kept 


Passing  of  the  Circus  33 

a  small  post  office — and  his  cai'cat,  unraveling  the 
mystery  by  disclosing  a  sheaf  of  show  handbills. 

"Oh!  bother!  fi-diddle!  what's  this  trash  doing  on 
my  premises,  Red,  my  son?"  inquired  father.  "How 
insidious  is  error.  Heredity !  Eschew  evil  and  do 
good;  be  not  led  astray  with  the  error  of  the  wicked," 
he  moralized,  with  stern  decision,  as  he  descried  me 
seated  on  the  root  of  a  scrub  oak,  feasting  on  the  pic- 
ture of  a  clown  turning  a  somersault  in  the  air.  "De- 
file not  your  youth,  my  boy,  and  hasten  to  school, 
where  loftier  sentiments  are  imbibed,  and  where  sub- 
limer  deeds  are  inspired." 

I  departed  on  my  sad  mission  to  the  schoolhouse, 
satisfied  of  the  fact  that  the  circus  was  preying  upon 
my  parent's  mind. 

Saturday  morning,  at  the  peep  of  day,  Robinson's 
"colossal"  caravan  began  to  pass  our  front  gate,  with 
that  indefinable  eclat  which  always  distinguishes  such 
occasions.  My  father  heard  the  sound  thereof,  and 
with  the  peculiar  promptness  that  invariably  charac- 
terizes a  man  who  hates  a  show,  at  a  single  effort 
cleared  the  footboard  of  his  bed,  knocked  out  three 
slats,  and  lit  on  one  foot.  As  he  gazed  from  the  win- 
dow upon  the  magnificent  pageant,  he  indulged  in  a 
couple  of  appropriate  homilies,  saying:  "Red.  my  son, 
look  not  on  evil.  Tf  sinners  entice  thee,  consent  thou 
not." 

But  the  boy  Heredity  happened  to  be  interested  him- 
self in  passing  events,  and  they  all  seemed  to  be  pass- 
ing just  then;  so,  located  on  the  gatepost,  protected 
from  the  morning  dews  by  his  mother's  tablecloth,  he 
was  perhaps  not  in  a  condition  to  give  such  heed  as  a 
3 


34  Good  Gumption 

parent's  advice  should  receive.  Suddenly,  the  steam 
piano  struck  up  a  lively  tune  which  sent  a  thrill  over 
my  father's  musical  tendencies,  causing  him  to  ex- 
claim with  unwonted  animation:  "That's  not  so  bad, 
Heredity,  my  son;  is  it,  my  boy?"  Whereupon,  re- 
gaining his  accustomed  calm,  he  observed  signifi- 
cantly, "But  the  daughters  of  music  shall  be  brought 
low."  Next  came  the  animals  in  slow  defile,  breaking 
the  monotony  of  the  quiet  hamlet  of  Toadville. 

"See!  my  son,"  exclaimed  my  father,  w^th  evident 
excitement ;  ''there  is  the  unicorn  of  Job,"  pointing  to 
a  gorgeously  decorated  cage  containing  a  rhinoceros. 
"Observe  that  insatiate  tiger,  fierce  and  cruel,  the  sym- 
bol of  uncivilized  man ;  mark  that  gorilla,  so  painfully 
like  the  human  kind;  Mr.  Darwin  thinks  a  relationship 
exists  sure  enough." 

"And  so  do  I,  father,  for  he  is  as  much  like  Grand- 
father Beans  as  two  black-eyed  peas.  This  must  be  a 
sort  of  family  show,  ain't  it,  pa  ?'' 

"But,  my  son,  let  us  not  be  led  astray  by  the  vaga- 
ries even  of  great  men ;  for  appearances  are  deceptive, 
and  only  in  his  fall  does  man  enter  the  sphere  of  the 
brute.  Even  then,  redemption  is  found  in  heredita- 
tion  and  environment.  But  more  of  this  anon.  Note 
the  majestic  lion,  just  coming  into  view ;  the  king  of 
beasts,  conspicuous  type  of  him  that  goeth  about  seek- 
ing whom  he  may  devour.  Enter  not,  my  son,  into  the 
path  of  the  wicked,  nor  stray  thou  in  the  way  of  evil 
men.  The  way  of  the  wicked  is  as  darkness;  they 
know  not  at  what  they  stumble." 

And  onward,  still  onward  passed  the  motley  throng 
of  living  things,  so  diverse  in  form,  habit,  and  habitat, 


Passing  of  the  Circus  35 

that  mv  father,  while  eharmed  with  Darwin's  views 
of  environment  and  human  hereditation,  saw^  in  this 
heterogeneous  cavalcade  a  fatal  objection  to  the  great 
naturalist's  then  newly-postulated  origin  of  species. 

"The  apostle  declared  the  fixedness  of  species," 
said  he,  "when  he  wrote,  as  if  he  were  beholding  a 
moving  menagerie,  'All  flesh  is  not  the  same  flesh: 
but  there  is  one  kind  of  flesh  of  men,  another  flesh  of 
beasts,  another  of  fishes,  and  another  of  birds.'  No, 
my  son,  that  form  of  evolution  which  makes  men, 
dogs,  apes,  buzzards,  whales,  lizards,  mosquitoes,  tum- 
l)lebugs,  sponges,  oysters,  snakes,  and  wiggletails  all 
members  of  one  family — as  so  many  cousins  and  un- 
cles— is  a  put-up  job.  For,  He  that  made  them  all — 
from  a  microbe  to  a  mastodon — w^ith  every  opportu- 
nity to  know%  says,  'All  flesh  is  not  the  same  flesh ;'  and 
here  is  an  ocular  demonstration  thereof." 

As  the  hour  for  the  performance  drew  on,  Toadville 
became  a  hive  of  swarming  humanity.  Many  persons 
passed  Shakerag  my  father  believed  would  never  dark- 
en a  tent,  taking,  apparently  against  their  will,  their 
little  boys  to  the  menagerie,  ^ly  father  caught  the 
idea. 

'Tshaw!"  exclaimed  he,  turning  to  mother,  "this  is 
nothing,  after  all,  but  a  zoological  exhibition — a  very 
worth}-  thing.  Every  boy  on  top  of  the  ground  ought 
to  see  it." 

"Then."  said  my  mother,  with  true  womanly  in- 
sight, "if  you  want  Heredity  to  see  the  circus,  let  him 
go  with  one  of  the  neighbors." 

"Fi-diddle!''  ejaculated  my  father,  "you  women  nev- 
er do  see  the  true  inwardness  of  things,  Pollina.  Don't 


36  Good  Gumption 

you  know  that  a  show  has  to  be  approached  from  the 
moral  side,  and  that  Heredity  will  need  an  ethical 
guide  in  the  midst  of  peculiar  dangers?" 

"That  being  the  case,"  answered  my  mother,  show- 
ing spirit,  ''I  had  better  take  Red  myself,  for  I  have 
been  almost  alone  his  moral  guide  ever  since  he  was 
born." 

"Whew !  Pollina  Beans  at  a  show !"  father  snorted. 
Thus  the  argument  closed;  and  my  father,  looking  at 
me,  commanded  with  some  excitement  for  me  to  "get 
ready,  my  boy,  and  we'll  go  to  see  the  animals." 

"Quick!  old  chap;  the  band's  tooting  away  now. 
Ha !  ha !  ha !"  laughed  he,  in  superlative  ecstasies.  "It's 
a  good  idea,  old  boy,  to  have  an  indulgent  pap  to  go 
along  to  prevent  your  morals  from  being  impaired, 
and  to  keep  off  accidents." 

I  never  had  known  little  boys  to  be  so  popular  be- 
fore, nor  how  nmch  a  parent  would  sacrifice  for  a 
child.  In  view  of  enhancing  my  pleasures  his  face 
shone  with  joy,  while  his  whole  conduct  became  hila- 
rious. Half  the  gentlemen  in  the  vicinity  seemed  to 
be  in  search  of  little  boys  to  take  to  the  circus,  and 
when  the  youngsters  began  to  get  scarce,  several  gen- 
tlemen clubbed  together  on  a  single  lad. 

Never  until  this  hour  had  I  understood  the  full  sig- 
nificance of  the  word  joy,  or  experienced  all  that  youth 
conceives  to  be  embraced  in  glory.  What  emotions 
spring  in  a  boy's  heart  as  he  buys  a  ticket  and  for  the 
first  time  steps  into  a  circus.  His  eyes  behold  un- 
dreamed wonders;  he  stands  amidst  constellations  of 
curiosities;  he  lives  in  a  new  world.  Father,  observ- 
ing the  extent  of  my  enthusiasm,  sought  to  enjoin 


Passing  of  the  Circus  37 

upon  me  proper  ethics  by  saying:  "Touch  not,  taste 
not,  handle  not,  my  son." 

But  orthodoxy  stands  at  a  disadvantage  in  a  show, 
while  the  best  maxims  have  to  be  treasured  up  for  fu- 
ture use.  I  could  1)ut  notice,  however,  how  fully  my 
father  was  in  sympathy  with  me  in  all  my  joys.  He 
seemed  even  to  be  enraptured  himself — on  my  ac- 
count, of  course.  It  affected  me  deeply.  How  self- 
sacrificing  he  was  to  immolate  his  most  cherished  con- 
victions and  decapitate  his  lifelong  scruples  just  to 
give  his  little  boy  two  hours  of  pleasure!  Oblivious 
of  his  own  pleasures,  he  appeared  to  enter  into  mine ; 
and,  notwithstanding  the  inward  struggle  it  must  have 
caused  him,  when  the  clown,  like  a  painted  zebra, 
turned  a  somersault  in  the  air  over  a  drove  of  horses 
and  a  pair  of  elephants,  he  clapped  his  hands  and 
shouted:  "Splendid!"  lUit  fearing  this  seeming  ap- 
probation might  corrupt  my  morals,  he  added  soberly, 
by  way  of  atonement:  "Look  not  on  the  wine  when  it 
is  red,  nor  on  the  clown  when  he  is  in  the  air.  Keep 
your  eye  on  the  animals,  my  son." 

Two  delirious  hours  well-nigh  had  elapsed,  when 
the  ringmaster  trotted  out  a  young  mule,  named  Bu- 
cephalus, stating  that  he  would  give  the  animal  to  any 
boy  who  could  ride  him  out  of  the  ring.  About  forty 
boys  in  turn  tried  their  skill,  and  the  same  forty  were 
relegated  to  the  dust.  Jaok  Cheesequakes,  son  of  my 
nearest  neighbor,  experimented  a  little,  but  without 
favorable  result.  I  wished  to  speculate  a  bit  myself, 
but  fearing  a  paternal  rebuke,  hesitated  until  I  heard 
my  father  whisper  to  the  elder  Cheesequakes  with  ill- 
concealed  emotion:  "I'll  be  bound  if  I  couldn't  have 


38  Good  Gumption 

ridden  that  mule  when  I  was  a  boy.  There  never  was 
a  beast  that  walked  on  four  legs  that  could  have 
flounced  me,  when  I  was  a  lad ;  but  boys  have  deterio- 
rated these  days." 

I  took  this  as  a  direct  reflection  upon  myself;  so, 
slipping-  quietly  from  my  seat,  I  leaped  upon  Bucepha- 
lus, determined  to  stick  there.  Locking  my  legs  around 
his  neck,  and  clasping  my  hands  around  his  tail,  after 
a  desperate  struggle  of  five  minutes,  I  rode  the  discom- 
fited animal  out  of  the  ring  amidst  deafening  cheers. 
Thus  did  I  acquire  a  beast  that  became  famous  with 
me. 

It  was  now  that  my  father's  experience  reached  a 
climax.  He  jumped  into  the  middle  of  the  ring,  shook 
hands  with  the  clown,  and  made  a  short  address  to 
the  audience,  declaring  that  he  had  the  grandest  boy 
that  ever  shot  a  marble. 

"Chip  oft'  the  old  block,  that  boy  Red  is!"  he  as- 
sured everybody.  "Yes;  ladies  and  gentlemen,  that 
youngster  is  the  terminus  of  the  law  of  heredity,  and 
he  was  born  and  reared  under  a  caveat.  Nothino-  like 
good  stock,  Mr.  Ringmaster;  every  baby  under  the 
sun  ought  to  come  through  the  Patent  Office."  Then 
he  recited  Hector's  farewell  to  his  infant  son : 

"O  Jupiter  and  all  ye  deities, 
Vouchsafe  that  this  my  son  may  yet  become 
Among  the  Trojans  eminent  like  me. 
And  nobly  rule  in  Ilium  !     May  they  say  : 
'This  man  is  greater  than  his  father  was.'  " 

The  great  pavilion  was  speedily  emptied,  and  the 
restless  multitude  sauntered  home,  or  else  sought  fur- 


Passing  of  the  Circus         *       39 

ther  diversion  in  the  numerous  sideshows  that  adver- 
tised their  charms  in  the  most  tempting  way.  We  had 
bent  our  faces  homeward,  my  mule  readily  following 
his  tether,  when  a  strain  of  li\ely  music  sounded  from 
an  open  tenl  not  far  from  our  path.  Father  suddenly 
stopped,  and  remembering  he  had  "a  little  business  to 
attend  to,"  gave  me  a  peremptory  command  to  go 
straight  home  and  tell  my  mother  that  \  had  acted 
nicely,  and  that  he  would  be  home  directly.  This  I 
did. 

Mother  snatched  her  poke  l)onnet,  went  to  the  vil- 
lage, and  arrived  at  a  spacious  tent,  guided  by  the 
tinny  notes  of  a  hand-organ,  just  in  time  to  see  my 
father  waving  a  baton  and  riding  in  high  glee  on  a 
merry-go-round.  When  the  machine  came  to  a  stop, 
she  simply  faced  her  husband,  saying:  "Why,  Cuke 
Beans!     What  about  those  higfh-soundinfr  theories 


now  r 


Oh!  Pollina,  theories  don't  work  at  a  show."  re- 
turned my  wise  parent. 


THE  SHOW'S  AFTERMATH 


Chapter  III. 

The  circus  and  its  marvels  faded  from  my  vision 
like  the  glorious  pageant  of  a  dream,  but  their  subtle 
influences  remained.  I  never  parade  before  a  curious 
public  the  secrets  of  home  life,  but,  since  a  show  can- 
not well  be  conceived  as  a  private  matter,  I  do  not  feel 
that  I  am  violating  domestic  proprieties  in  what  I  am 
about  to  relate,  though  it  occurred  in  the  attic  at 
Shakerag. 

Yes,  it  was  in  the  attic.  My  father  had  been 
strangely  affected  by  the  circus ;  a  meal  never  passed 
without  his  animadverting  to  some  feature  that  espe- 
cially pleased  him.  He  could  describe  all  the  animals, 
repeat  the  clown's  jokes,  and  even  sing  a  stanza  here 
and  there  from  the  comic  song  book  he  had  purchased. 
He  always  had  been  kind  and  jovial  to  his  family,  but 
now  he  was  simply  a  child  again.  He  never  played 
so  many  pranks,  and  laughed  with  such  boyish  glee  as 
since  the  performance  at  the  circus.  One  morning  at 
breakfast,  however,  his  hilarity  was  checked  quite  ef- 
fectually, though  unintentionally,  when  mother  dis- 
played a  picture  of  the  fat  woman,  which  she  had 
found  in  the  inner  pocket  of  his  coat  while  the  gar- 
ment had  been  undergoing  repairs.  Like  a  noted 
king  he  never  smiled  again — during  breakfast. 
(40) 


The  Show's  Aftermath  41 

Meanwhile,  a  strange  malady  swept  over  Toadville 
and  the  surrounding  country,  against  which  there  was 
no  available  cjuarantine.  It  crept  into  homes  that 
were  thought  to  be  proof  against  such  distempers,  and 
affected  the  old  as  well  as  the  young.  My  father 
caught  it,  and  for  seven  weeks  had  a  severe  attack  of 
circus  disease. 

I  repeat,  it  was  in  the  attic.  My  father  and  'Squire 
Cheesequakes  had  slipped  quietly  up  to  llic  loft,  a 
thing  they  never  had  been  known  to  do,  and  now  and 
then  suppressed  notes  of  the  jolliest  laughter  could  be 
heard  on  the  ground  iloor.  My  mother  suspected 
something  at  once, 

''Heredity,"  said  she,  "your  father  and  old  Cheese- 
quakes  are  playing  circus  in  the  garret.  We'll  go  up 
and  surprise  them." 

And  she  was  "all  in  a  tickle,"  for  a  joke  on  father 
was  her  delight,  but  his  abomination.  We,  she  with 
joyous  face  and  I  in  a  broad  grin,  stealthily  climbed 
up  to  the  attic  by  means  of  a  ladder  that  stood  always 
ready  for  that  purpose,  the  laughter  becoming  more 
and  more  distinct  as  we  ascended.  I  began  to  giggle 
at  the  prospect  before  us. 

"Hush!"  said  mother,  "don't  disturb  the  play  of 
these  aged  infants." 

As  we  looked  through  a  crack  in  the  partition,  we 
encountered  a  novel  scene.  'S(|uire  Cheesequakes, 
with  a  \vagon  whip  in  his  hand,  was  performing  the 
part  of  ringmaster.  He  wore  a  spikctail  coat,  which 
no  doubt  had  witnessed  many  another  jocund  occa- 
sion, including  perhaps  his  wedding  day,  and  poised 
upon  his  head  was  a  stovepipe  hat  that  had  passed 


42  Good  Gumption 

through  a  similar  experience.  As  for  my  mother's 
husband,  he  had  assumed  the  role  of  clown.  His  para- 
phernalia consisted  mainly  of  a  dilapidated  felt  hat 
shorn  of  its  brim  and  with  its  crown  punched  into  a 
pyramid,  a  striped  shirt  without  a  collar,  breeches  cur- 
tailed to  the  knee,  and  patched  with  squares  of  differ- 
ent colored  calico,  red  prevailing,  a  pair  of  black 
stockings  tied  with  yellow  ribbon,  and  a  brace  of  an- 
cient shoes  whitewashed.  His  face  was  corked  and 
rouged  alternately,  whilst  his  eyebrows  were  inked 
and  his  nose  was  solid  red.  ]\Iotlier  scarcely  could 
contain  herself,  and  as  for  me,  I  was  leaning  against 
the  plank  partition  with  her  admonishing  hand  clasped 
over  my  mouth  to  prevent  an  untimely  explosion. 

It  was  indeed  a  novel  scene.  Cheesequakes  was 
cracking  his  whip  with  painful  energy,  and  father, 
under  its  urgings,  was  making  an  attempt  to  jump 
over  a  barrel  placed  between  two  kegs,  and  supposed 
to  represent  respectively  an  elephant  and  a  couple  of 
horses.  His  intentions  were  excellent,  but  his  nimble- 
ness  had  rusted  a  little  from  age;  so  finally  he  came 
down  on  his  cramp  colic  athwart  the  elephant,  which 
walked  (that  is,  rolled)  from  under  him.  It  is  not 
necessary  to  remark  that,  in  view  of  the  reverberating 
properties  of  an  attic,  there  were  sounds,  human  and 
inhuman,  which  resembled  the  voice  of  many  thun- 
ders. But,  inasmuch  as  showmen  are  not  easily  dis- 
concerted, the  clown  sprang  into  the  center  of  the 
ring,  and,  bending  double,  addressed  the  ringmaster : 

''Why  is  an  elephant  like  a  traveler?" 

Ringmaster:  Really,  I  see  no  resemblance  what- 
ever. 


c 


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44  Good  Gumption  . 

Clown  :  Because  he  always  takes  his  trunk  with 
him. 

Ringmaster:  Very  good,  sir;  have  you  anything 
else  as  original  ? 

Clown  :  Why  is  a  bald-headed  man  like  a  brier- 
patch  when  a  gun  is  fired  near  it  ? 

Ringmaster:  Surely  you  are  trifling  with  lan- 
guage. It  is  absurd  to  suppose  there  is  the  slight- 
est likeness.     Give  it  up. 

Clown  :  Because  the  hare  is  gone. 

Ringmaster  :  Indeed — most  excellent !  I  am  sur- 
prised that  I  did  not  observe  the  analogy  at  once. 
Anything  else  of  a  remarkable  nature? 

Clown  :  I  ate  some  deviled  eggs  at  Coney  Island, 
and  they  were  not  bad. 

Ringmaster:  Very  good,  indeed.  You  are  im- 
proving rapidly.  If  you  keep  it  up  some  day  you  may 
be  a  real  clown.  Haven't  you  got  something  else  at 
the  bottom  of  the  joke  bag? 

Clown  :  Sure.  I've  got  jokes  to  give  away  to  the 
joke  book.  For  instance:  Why  is  a  barrel  of  apples* 
like  a  hot-house  ? 

Ringmaster:  Now  don't  be  foolish.  Whoever 
heard  of  there  being  such  a  likeness?  You'll  spoil 
your  record  by  getting  off  something  poor.  Still,  if 
you  think  a  barrel  of  green  apples  is  like  a  hot-house 
let's  have  the  answer. 

Clown  :  Because  they  are  both  full  of  panes. 

Ringmaster:  Why,  what  do  you  mean,  sir?  I 
don't  understand. 

Clown:  Well,  if  you  were  as  full  of  green  apples 
as  the  barrel  you'd  have  as  many  pains  as  the  glass 


The  Show's  Aftermath  45 

hot-house.     Do  I  have  to  draw  a  diagram  of  this 
joke  ? 

This  sally  was  too  much  for  the  old  men,  and  they 
gave  themselves  up  to  unrestrained  mirth,  swinging 
to  and  fro,  shouting,  slapping  their  hands  together, 
rubhing  their  centers  of  gravity,  gasping — faces 
white — hair  standing  on  end — perspiration  flowing — 
Cheesequakes  is  seized  with  hiccoughs — laid  out  on 
the  floor — father  has  hysterics — mother  enters  the 
door — says :  "Why,  Cuke  Beans !"    The  fun  was  over. 


STAMPEDED     HORNETS 


Chapter  IV. 


But  circuses  die  hard.  John  Robinson  left  a  mighty 
influence  behind  him,  as  the  following  incident  will 
show:  On  one  occasion,  soon  after  the  performance 
of  our  parents  in  the  attic,  Jack  Cheesequakes  and  my- 
self sat  on  the  farm  fence  discussing  the  relative  mer- 
its of  our  fathers,  each  displaying  a  bit  of  boyish 
pride  as  we  recounted  ^le  history  of  their  boyhood  as 
it  had  come  direct  from  sire  to  son. 

**It  strikes  me.  Heredity,"  said  Jack,  "that  our  paps 
had  similar  experiences.  Both  of  them  played  pranks, 
rode  horses  nobody  else  could  ride,  braved  dangers, 
had  narrow  escapes,  and  did  a  great  many  things 
which  in  these  mild  times  would  seem  miraculous." 

"And  it  strikes  me  likewise,"  rejoined  I,  "that  the 
present  crop  of  boys  has  deteriorated  since  the  hal- 
cyon days  of  our  ancestors.  I  have  even  heard  my 
father  time  and  again  say  as  much.  I  feel  bad  about 
it." 

"So  do  I,"  moaned  Jack.  "T'm  afraid  the  race  is 
about  to  run  out.  Why,  at  home  I  hear  nothing  but 
the  glorification  of  the  youngsters  of  a  generation 
l:)ack.  I  wish  I  had  been  born  a  couple  of  centuries 
ago  when  all  the  boys  were  heroes,  and  I  too,  maybe, 
might  have  been  something  more  than  meek  Tack 
(46) 


Stampeded  Hornets  47 

Cheesequakes,  unknown  to  fame,  unwept,  unhonorcd, 
and  unsung.  I  might  have  stolen  my  neighbor's  ap- 
ples in  the  night ;  might  have  had  a  victorious  fight 
W'ith  the  watch-dog,  leaving  a  part  of  my  breeches  the 
size  of  the  dog's  mouth  in  the  orchard;  and  I  might 
have  worked  tricks  with  hornet's  nests.  Shucks!  Red, 
we  just  ain't  nobody." 

''You  don't  pretend  to  say  your  dadd}',  too,  specu- 
lated in  hornets'  nests?  Why,  Jack,  T  1)elieve  every 
boy  in  the  good  old  times  used  to  have  something  to 
do  with  hornets'  nests.  I  have  heard  my  father  tell 
about  his  doings  with  hornets,  and  then  laugh  as  if  his 
sides  would  split :  and,  falling  back  in  his  arm-chair, 
he  would  moralize,  'But  boys  lack  a  sight  of  being 
what  they  were.'  I  tell  you,  Jack,  it  makes  a  feller  w^ith 
any  spirit  feel  a  heap  uncomfortable.  How  could  I 
help  not  being  born  forty  years  ago?" 

"Why,  of  course  you  couldn't  help  it  at  all,  Red,  and 
it  makes  you  feel  lonesotne  to  think  about  it.  I  kit 
don't  grieve,  old  boy,  for  I'm  inclined  to  think  the 
fault  is  not  in  the  times,  but  in  the  boys.  We  have  not 
learned  much  from  the  instruction  of  our  parents. 
Every  well-regulated  boy  should  have  unbounded  ad- 
miration for  his  ancestors,  and  seek  in  them  the  model 
for  the  plan  of  his  life  and  character.  At  all  events, 
that's  what  I  heard  Miss  Spider  tell  the  class  the  other 
day." 

"Why,  Jack  Cheesequakes,  you  talk  like  one  of  the 
dead  sages,  and  your  speech  has  the  ring  of  sure- 
enough  philosophy.  Pa  says  a  boy  is  the  sum  of  his 
forebears;  then  you  and  T  ought  to  be  equal  together 
to  eight  bears  at  least.    Go  on,  cub.  and  speak." 


48  Good  Gumption 

"Well,  I  was  going-  on  to  say,"  quoth  Jack,  "we 
might  pattern  after  our  fathers  and  invest  our  brains 
in  something  marvelous.  We  might  begin  on  a  small 
scale — say  work  up  a  hornet  trick  first — just  to  see 
how  it  would  take." 

"Dear  me.  Jacobus,  it's  the  sublimest  thing  I  ever 
heard  of — equal  to  a  circus;  and  then,  that  joke  is 
classical,  never  fails  to  work,  never  gets  humdrum, 
and  neither  loses  its  novelty  nor  its  point." 

"No;  not  its  point,"  said  Jack,  with  a  smile.  "But 
jesting  aside,  all  we  lack  is  an  opportunity  of  sufficient 
size  for  the  undertaking.  Our  fathers  worked  their 
schemes  on  individuals,  in  a  small  way,  in  private; 
but  you  know,  Red,  this  is  an  age  of  progress,  and  if 
we  are  'equal  to  the  sum  of  our  antecedents'  (that's 
the  way  the  old  folks  put  it)  we  ought  to  be  able  to  get 
up  a  trick  as  big  as  all  of  theirs  put  together.  It  should 
be,  then,  on  a  large  scale  and  played  on  the  public. 
How  about  that  ?" 

"Great  idea — and,  by  the  way,  there's  to  be  a  tre- 
mendous time,  may  be  two  or  three  of  them,  at  the 
courthouse  next  Friday — the  gul-o-rious  old  Fourth 
of  July,  you  know.  Everybody  and  his  stepson  will  be 
there.  The  political  parties  are  to  have  a  barbecue 
and  speeches — candidates  a  plenty — crowd — see?" 
'Nough  said ;"  quoth  Jack. 


(I  >-\ 


It  was  a  high  day  at  Toadville,  an  occasion  of  spe- 
cial interest  to  the  entire  community ;  politics  was  rife, 
great  questions  were  before  the  people.  The  streets 
and  lanes  of  the  village  were  threaded  at  an  early  hour 
with  vehicles  of  every  name,  age,  and  style.     Carts, 


Stampeded  Hornets  49 

wagons,  gigs,  buggies,  barouches,  and  carriages  in 
rich  profusion  were  there.  As  for  the  people,  they 
were  as  muhitudinous  as  the  sand  on  the  seashore, 
and  as  varied  as  a  schoolgirl's  airs. 

On  the  evening  preceding  the  great  day,  Jack  and  I, 
having  resolved  to  do  something  worthy  oX  our  fore- 
bears, succeeded,  after  various  attempts,  in  bagging  a 
hornets'  nest  that  we  chanced  upon  in  a  neighboring 
patch  of  woods.  Jubilantly  we  bore  our  trophy  to  the 
courthouse,  and  deposited  it  in  the  cellar  underneath. 
The  courthouse  literally  was  packed.  Dozens  stood 
anxiously  about  the  windows  outside,  to  catch  the 
magic  words  as  they  fell  from  the  lips  of  the  political 
orators. 

'Squire  Cheesequakes  opened  the  meeting,  and  in- 
troduced Duobus  Rag,  candidate  for  the  Legislature 
on  the  Democratic  ticket,  amid  tremendous  and  pro- 
longed applause.  The  personality  of  the  said  Rag, 
though  somewhat  peculiar,  was  nevertheless  quite  im- 
pressive, and  stamped  him  at  once  as  being  a  man  of 
no  ordinary  power.  He  had  neither  grace  nor  cul- 
ture, but  possessed,  instead,  personal  magnetism  to  a 
remarkable  degree.  His  sandy  hair,  carelessly  parted, 
and  most  of  it  departed,  his  broad  red  face  and  redder 
nose,  his  deep  penetrating  voice,  that  could  have  filled 
the  Parthenon,  or  made  vocal  every  recess  of  the  Pan- 
theon, his  stout  frame,  slightly  inclined  to  rotundity, 
and  his  small  keen  eyes — all  bespoke  for  him  attention 
before  any  audience. 

The  question  agitating  the  public  mind  at  that  time 
related  to  a  scheme  on  the  part  of  the  Consolidated 
Navigation  Company  to  construct  a  canal  from  Squab 
4 


50  Good  Gumption 

River  to  Toadville,  a  distance  of  seven  miles.  It  was 
a  matter  for  popular  vote,  and,  consequently,  all  can- 
didates for  office  were  required  to  voice  their  shibbo- 
leths touching  it.  The  merits  of  the  question,  as  pre- 
sented by  the  two  leading  politicians,  will  form  the 
subject  of  the  next  chapter.  Suffices  it  here  to  say, 
that  Nebuchadnezzar  Quid,  Republican  candidate  for 
the  Legislature,  just  about  the  opposite  of  Duobus 
Rag  in  every  way,  was  rendering  his  peroration  with 
great  satisfaction  to  his  party,  unremittingly  smiting 
a  Patent  Office  Report  with  his  magnificent  fist  (much 
to  my  father's  anxiety  for  a  certain  caveat,  supposed 
by  him  to  make  the  Report  worthy  of  more  respectful 
treatment)  until  from  the  battered  book  echoes  rang 
in  every  nook  and  corner  of  the  crowded  edifice.  Per- 
spiration streamed  down  his  cheeks;  his  eyes  flashed 
fire — that  is,  one  of  them  did;  the  other  didn't  flash, 
owing  to  an  accident  dating  back  a  couple  of  years  to 
a  fist-fight  in  a  political  canvass — his  lips  quivered; 
and  tremendous  thunders  rolled  from  his  tongue.  The 
effect  was  prodigious.  Hundreds  of  hands  were  clap- 
ping, and  many  tongues  were  screaming:  "Hurrah'" 
A  moment  and  the  work  was  done.  We  dragged 
the  bag  containing  the  hornets  and  their  nest  to  a  spot 
directly  beneath  an  opening  in  the  floor  overhead — an 
opening  left  by  some  carpenters  who  had  been  prepar- 
ing to  install  a  newfangled  heating  apparatus  and  had 
been  forced  to  suspend  operations  because  of  the 
meeting.  Jack  and  your  humble  servant  deftly  drew 
the  bag  from  around  the  nest,  gave  it  a  kick,  and  then 
retired  into  the  background.  The  hornets,  angry  at 
such  treatment,  issued  forth  and  naturallv  headed  to- 


ijmj 


C 

c 
w 

D 


X 

< 

oi 

E- 


U 


a: 

< 

u 

o 
I 

X 


52  Good  Gumption 

ward  the  opening  overhead,  through  which  a  flood  of 
Hght  poured.  In  less  than  a  jifl:y  they  had  invaded  the 
meeting  bent  on  vengeance. 

They  began  attacking  chiefly  those  who  most  as- 
siduously clapped  their  hands.  Somehow,  hornets 
don't  like  a  fuss,  and  in  their  eft'orts  to  stop  it  only  in- 
creased the  excitement  many  per  cent.  Meanwhile, 
my  father  took  advantage  of  the  occasion  to  warn 
political  sinners  of  election  day  and  ventilate  his  views 
on  heredity,  while  Duobus  Rag,  whose  ways  sug- 
gested the  Judgment,  made  a  commendable  effort  to 
climb  the  bell-rope.  Never  in  my  life  have  I  known 
windows  and  doors  to  be  in  more  active  demand.  It 
is  surprising  how  a  politician  who  has  been  lying  can 
jump  with  the  aid  of  a  hornet.  Hop — skip — and  a 
jump !  Through  all  the  orifices  of  the  courthouse 
rushed  the  surging  throng.  Last  of  all  went  'Squire 
Cheesequakes,  leaping,  to  the  great  praise  of  his  agil- 
ity, straight  through  the  open  window,  brushing  a 
pair  of  hornets  from  his  bald  head,  and  crying  with 
unabated  energy,  and  some  truth.  "Deliver  me  from 
the  tail-end  of  a  circus !" 

Must  I  let  the  curtain  drop  ?  I  shall  not  relate  what 
took  place  at  our  house  in  the  early  morn  of  the  next 
day,  when  I  was  unceremoniously  roused  from  my 
slumbers  while  in  no  condition  to  defend  myself,  but 
am  I  in  a  position  to  explain  why  the  old  peach  tree 
that  shaded  the  well  was  minus  its  choicest  limb?  I 
shall  not  say  I  didn't  get  my  breakfast  till  dinner,  but 
I  will  say,  that  in  this  life  we  follow  examples  rather 
than  creeds. 

Mother  seized  the  occasion  to  moralize  on  evolu- 


Stampeded  Hornets  53 

tion  and  shows  and  to  administer  a  scathing  rebuke 
to  my  revered  parent,  her  husband. 

"Cuke  Beans,''  said  she,  "1  hope  you  see  that  recent 
occurrences  have  dissipated  your  big  notions  about 
heredity  into  ihin  air,  and  that  httle  Beans  is  nothing 
but  big  Beans  made  over,  a  trifle  improved  by  what  he 
inherits  from  his  mother.  And  moreover,  big  Beans, 
I  trust  you  see  the  folly  of  trying  to  raise  little  Beans 
under  the  shadow  of  a  circus  tent  and  with  the  ideals 
furnished  by  a  clown." 

Exit  magiius  Beans;  ridct  Beans  parvus. 


TOADVILLE'S   BARBECUE 


Chapter  V. 


There  were  some  items  connected  with  the  great 
Fourth  of  July  celebration  that  I  thought  best  to  take 
from  the  docket  in  the  last  chapter,  before  entering 
the  cloudy  realms  of  Possum  County  politics.  Thus 
relieved  I  now  turn  in  better  spirit  to  that  occasion. 

A  barbecue,  especially  a  barbecue  in  the  midst  of  an 
exciting  canvass,  always  has  had  considerable  influ- 
ence on  the  children  of  men — and  fully  as  much  on 
the  children  of  women.  Well,  it  really  is  a  big  thing. 
The  first  great  movement  in  human  history  started 
from  something  to  eat,  a  primitive  sort  of  bread-riot, 
you  may  say.  One  morning,  presumably  the  Fourth 
of  July,  Independence  Day,  you  know,  Mrs.  Eve  Adam 
felt  too  enervated  by  the  climate  to  cook  breakfast, 
and  so  walked  herself  off  to  look  for  an  easy  meal. 
Then,  too,  there  is  no  evidence  that  she  swept  her  hus- 
band's room  that  morning,  or  dusted  the  furniture,  or 
let  down  the  piano-cover,  or  l^rushed  the  cobwebs  from 
the  hat-rack,  or  set  the  table,  or  even  wound  the  clock, 
or  put  Mr.  Adam's  boots  in  place. 

But  there  are  some  extenuating  circumstances.  She 
was  just  from  school,  without  a  mother,  young,  beau- 
tiful, petted  by  every  man  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  in- 
experienced, and  a  female.  It  must  be  remembered, 
^54) 


Toadville's    Barbecue  55 

moreover,  that  the  colleges  of  that  day  taught  neither 
reading  nor  writing,  much  less  the  sciences  of  cook- 
ing and  housekeeping,  while  even  the  University  of 
Eden  imparted  only  scant  instruction  except  on  the 
general  subjects  of  courtshij)  and  marriage.  /\nd 
many  people  don't  study  any  other  branches  now. 

This  leads  me  to  say  that  I  have  always  felt  sorry 
for  Adam,  because  he  had  no  choice  in  regard  to  his 
marriage.  Think  of  it — a  man  without  a  choice — he 
had  to  take  the  first  woman  he  came  across!  It  is 
proper  to  say  here  (and  the  statement  never  has  been 
contradicted  so  far  as  I  know)  that  when  Adam  first 
made  a  proposition  of  marriage  to  ]^Iiss  Eve,  she  told 
him  that  it  was  "so  sudden"  and  that  she  "never  ex- 
pected to  marry."  A  change,  however,  came  over  her 
affections,  when  one  day  Mr.  Adam  gave  her  a  box 
of  chocolates,  a  bottle  of  cologne,  and  a  nickel's  worth 
of  chewing-gum.  Great  is  the  stomach  in  the  destinies 
of  the  race.  And  Eve  became  Mrs.  Adam;  if  she 
hadn't,  there  would  have  been  no  barbecue  at  Toad- 
viile. 

But  the  barbecue  was  not  the  only  attraction  that 
drew  together  the  immense  throng  of  folks  on  the 
Fourth  of  July,  for  there  was  a  question  before  the 
people  of  Possum  County  in  which  all  men  were  in- 
terested, and  on  which  all  had  taken  sides  save  those 
human  donkeys  that  trade  their  votes  for  money  or 
whisky.  Yes,  a  great  question  was  up.  By  their 
votes  the  citizens  of  Possum  County  must  decide 
whether  a  canal  should  be  cut  from  Squab  River  to 
Toadville,  a  distance  of  seven  miles.  A  great  theme, 
this,  for  the  shooting  of  rhetorical  skyrockets  and  the 


56  Good  Gumption 

display  of  soapsud  fountains.  An  august  occasion, 
too,  worthy  of  a  Webster  or  a  Clay.  The  object  of  the 
orators  was  to  set  forth  the  merits  and  demerits  of  the 
proposed  canal,  each  according  to  his  party  point  of 
view.  In  favor  of  the  canal  spoke  Duobus  Rag,  as  the 
first  orator. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  began,  with  time-hon- 
ored triteness,  "a  tremendous  industrial  problem  is 
facing  us;  and,  like  Blanco's  ghost  [he  meant  Ban- 
quo's] ,  it  will  not  down.  The  hour  is  big  with  destiny. 
The  welfare  of  Possum  County  for  a  thousand  years, 
in  the  phantom  shapes  of  wealth,  art,  and  progress, 
will  hover  benignly  over  the  result  of  this  election, 
even  as  the  silver  moons  revolve  about  Saturn,  should 
the  sacred  ballot-box  sing  the  siren  song  of  the  canal. 

"Such,  indeed,  would  be  a  red-letter  day  in  the  an- 
nals of  our  ancient  town,  when  the  beatitudes  of  joy 
would  clap  their  hands,  and  the  symphonies  of  song 
would  rise  in  mighty  cadence,  roll  on  cyclonic  wheels 
from  star  to  star  in  the  fire-lit  pyrean,  fill  the  unmeas- 
ured universe  with  music,  and  at  nightfall  die  away  in 
pensive  sobs,  to  be  renewed  each  morning,  as,  in  the 
golden  light  of  the  sun,  labor  strikes  its  thousand  an- 
vils. [Did  Henry  Clay  ever  beat  that?]  Gifted  pens 
and  eloquent  tongues  have  thrilled  us  with  their  magic 
recitals  of  the  character  and  dignity  of  tariff,  currency, 
war,  and  slavery ;  but  these  themes  are  but  the  paltry 
politics  of  a  tin  god,  whose  shrine  is  in  the  alley  and 
the  slum,  compared  with  the  Squab  River  canal,  which 
even  now,  in  vision,  I  see  moving  before  us  in  queenly 
majesty,  crowned  with  the  diamonds  of  a  new  indus- 
try, opening  up  a  great  water-way  to  the  swift-winged 


Toadville's  Barbecue  57 

commerce  of  the  world,  and  in  da3's  to  come  the  air- 
ships of  the  universe. 

"Fellow-townsmen  [seventeen  voters],  Toadville, 
at  a  distance  of  seven  miles  from  the  great  hydro- 
graphic  [a  little  mixed  again,  but  Toadville  didn't 
mind  J  arteries  of  the  country,  never  can  become  a  sea- 
port town.  It  never  can  rank  in  commercial  impor- 
tance with  New  York,  Chicago,  or  even  San  Fran- 
cisco, unless  it  be  connected  with  the  high  seas,  wdiose 
billowy  waves  break  in  thundering  orchestras  on  the 
rocky  keys  of  old  earth,  sending  pulsations  of  rhythmic 
melody  to  the  far-off  fiery  center  of  the  globe.  Let 
every  man  in  whose  breast  beats  the  love  of  country, 
hasten  the  glad  day  when  Toadville  shall  lift  her  proud 
head  in  paeans  of  victory  to  the  emblazoned  heaven, 
bending  beneath  its  crown  of  stars  to  behold  the  glory 
of  a  redeemed  town. 

"Give  Toadville  a  canal,  give  her  water  communica- 
tion with  the  nations  of  the  world,  and  in  five  short 
years,  instead  of  eighty-five  souls  all  told,  there  will 
be  one  hundred  thousand  within  her  walls,  all  of  them 
rich,  all  happy,  all  wise.  Instead  of  a  dozen  huts, 
there  will  be  brick  mansions,  brow^n-stone  fronts,  and 
marble  palaces,  gracing  asphalt  avenues  five  miles 
long.  There  will  be  numerous  parks  in  which  feath- 
ered choirs  will  charm  the  listening  ears  of  ecstatic 
multitudes.  The  buzz  of  factories  will  swell  in  ever- 
increasing  cadences,  until  in  li(|uid  softness  it  strikes 
sympathetic  chords  on  the  philharmonic  harp  of  the 
universe,  whose  strings  vibrate  and  reecho  in  tireless 
music  forever.    • 

(At  this  point  Daniel  W^ebster  kicked  the  bottom 


58  Good  Gumption 

out  of  his  coffin  because  in  his  Hfetime  he  never  had 
done  so  well.  Thus  can  the  great  be  jealous  even  in 
death. ) 

"Then,  as  the  poet's  line  suggests,  a  year  of  Toad- 
ville  will  be  worth  a  cycle  of  Cathay.  Then  Possum 
County  will  blossom  as  the  rose;  great  ships  will  an- 
chor in  her  canal,  proud  navies  ride  on  her  waters, 
and  the  wealth  of  the  globe  will  unload  itself  at  her 
golden  portals.  Orpheus  will  sing  in  Toadville's 
streets  melodies  so  touching  "as  to  bring  iron  tears 
from  the  eyes  of  Pluto,  while  splendor-crowned  Fame, 
amid  amaranthine  odors,  will  sit  in  her  temple  of  com- 
merce, reigning  with  benign  scepter  over  the  grandest 
people  on  the  face  of  the  earth." 

Thus  closed  the  speech  of  the  young  political  wind- 
bag, amid  a  tumult,  screaming,  wild  and  indiscrimi- 
nate ejaculations,  hurrahing  raised  to  a  hysterical 
pitch,  and  a  general  hubbub  that  would  have  made  a 
tornado  feel  lonesome.  If  there  could  be  anything  in 
wind,  the  canal  was  a  sure  thing.  After  the  winds,  as 
Virgil  would  say,  had  been  shut  up  in  a  cave,  Nebu- 
chadnezzar Quid  took  his  stand  on  the  platform,  the 
opponent  of  Rag,  and  in  every  way  his  opposite. 

"Fellow-citizens  of  Possum  County,"  said  he,  "as 
the  candidate  on  the  Republican  side  of  the  canal ;  be- 
fore this  respectable  and  intelligent  gathering,  I  am 
proud  to  present  the  claims  of  the  G.  O.  P. — that  is. 
Good  Old  Possum.  Toadville  may  need  a  canal  to 
wash  its  rags  in  [a  fourth  of  the  inhabitants  belonged 
to  the  Rag  family],  but  this  grand  old  county,  which 
is  dearer  to  me  than  my  life,  will  wash  itself  of  the 
ditch  business  without  anv  water,  in  the  ballot-box. 


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(59) 


60  Good  Gumption 

"Possumites,  lend  me  your  ears,  that  ye  may  hear ! 
Squab  River !  And  what  is  Squab  River  but  the  old 
intermittent  brook,  known,  until  a  petition  was  sent 
to  Congress  for  an  appropriation,  as  Squab  Creek, 
w^hich  dries  up  in  summer  and  freezes  up  in  winter? 
Its  average  depth  is  three  inches,  and  its  mean  width 
is  two  and  a  half  feet.  It  has  been  known  to  be 
dammed  at  flood  tide,  by  a  pumpkin  falling  into  it; 
and  recently,  when  John  Robinson's  circus  passed  over 
it,  the  elephant  took  a  few  swallows  and  dried  up  this 
Democratic  stream  for  a  day  and  a  night,  and  it  began 
to  flow  again  only  when  a  passing  farmer  dropped  a 
watermelon  into  it. 

"And,  fellow-citizens,  what  is  Toadville,  that  it 
should  have  a  canal  furnished  by  the  government,  that 
it  should  wear  a  golden  bib  and  be  rocked  in  a  silver 
cradle?  What  is  this  precocious  political  infant  that 
it  should  cut  teeth  of  pearl,  gnaw  a  rattle  of  precious 
gems,  swing  in  gilded  ropes,  shoot  into  the  ring  of 
honest  labor  with  a  diamond  taw,  and  ride  a  hobby- 
horse with  his  mouth  in  the  treasury  of  the  United 
States?  The  Toadville  that  we  know  is  noted  only 
for  mosquitoes  and  Rags  [continued  applause]  ;  it  is 
found  on  but  one  map  in  the  world,  and  that  is  a  dia- 
gram, gotten  up  to  show  to  Congress,  at  the  terminus 
of  a  broad  canal  floating  all  the  varied  crafts  of  com- 
merce; indeed  it  appears  a  great  city  with  paper 
streets  and  ink  homes. 

"Verily  a  diagram  hath  power  to  soothe  the  Con- 
gressional breast,  when  its  party  leaders  demand  trea- 
sons, strategems,  and  spoils.  [Note  the  way  Quid 
mauled  dear  old  Shakespeare.]     The  Appropriation 


Toadvillc's  Barbecue  61 

Committee  proposes  to  make  a  city  out  of  toads, 
ground-peas,  and  rags  [more  applause]  ;  and  a  river 
out  of  dirt.  Toadville,  removed  from  the  diagram, 
has  thirteen  houses,  besides  a  courthouse  and  a  jail. 
Two  of  these  mighty,  sky-scraping  structures  are  hen- 
houses, and  one  a  barn.  T  lived  within  nine  miles  of 
Toadville,  but  never  heard  thereof  until  T  was  nine- 
teen years  old — and  1  was  a  pretty  precocious  youth. 
Even  then,  it  came  to  my  knc^wledge  only  when  my 
father  sent  me  to  sell  a  peck  of  apples,  which  glutted 
the  Toadville  market  for  a  week. 

** Suppose  we  get  a  canal,  and  have  a  river  made  at 
the  expense  of  the  government ;  where  will  the  water 
come  from?  Toadville's  orators  could  ftirnish  the 
wind,  but  where,  oh!  where  is  the  a([ueous  fluid  l(^  be 
found?  Squab  River  can't  furnish  water  enough  to 
float  an  Indian  canoe,  and.  if  Possum  Cotmty  should 
vote  for  the  canal,  it  would  have  to  get  up  another  pe- 
tition to  Congress  to  invent  some  hydraulic  machinery 
for  manufacturing  water  to  fill  it.  That's  too  big  a 
job  to  expect  of  a  small  spring.  T  have  read — that  is, 
I  have  heard  my  grandfather  read — in  the  good  Book 
about  clouds  without  water,  but  in  all  my  life  I  never 
heard  of  canals  without  water.  You  see,  fellow-citi- 
zens, the  Bible  is  against  artificial  waterworks,  wheth- 
er rivers,  canals,  or  clouds.  And  I,  therefore,  call  upon 
all  good  people,  both  laymen  and  clergymen,  to  enter 
their  pious  protest  against  this  whole  nefarious  busi- 
ness. 

"I  here  assert,  as  an  honest  patriot,  that  it  would 
take  a  thousand  men  ten  years  to  turn  this  rocky  ridge 
into  a  canal,  at  an  expense  of  six  million  dollars;  and. 


62  Good  Gumption 

moreover,  it  would  consume  all  the  balance  of  money 
now  in  the  United  States  Treasury,  or  that  ever  will 
be  therein,  to  supply  the  necessary  water  to  float  a 
first-class  tugboat.  If  Toadville  wants  to  become  a 
seaport  town,  let  it  remove  to  the  seashore.  This 
would  be  easy  and  practical,  and  highly  beneficial  to 
the  purity  of  Possum  County  government.  And  then 
it  could  be  done  without  expense,  since  a  couple  of 
goat-carts  could  carry  all  that  is  valuable  in  Toadville 
— Rags  and  all.     [Loud  cheers.] 

"Then,  fellow-citizens,  there  is  a  sad  feature  con- 
nected with  this  enterprise  that  my  opponent  has  not 
been  frank  enough  to  notice.  Don't  you  know  that  a 
canal  always  brings  flies,  gnats,  chinches,  bats,  fleas, 
frogs,  measles,  pneumonia,  whooping-cough,  rheuma- 
tism, mumps,  blind-staggers,  insanity,  cholera  morbus, 
and  hiccoughs  ?  Don't  you  know  that  it  would  change 
the  weather,  reverse  the  points  of  the  compass,  and 
cause  snow,  vapor,  fog,  and  blizzards  ?  Yes,  my  coun- 
trymen, the  weather  would  have  hysterics,  and  every 
farmer  in  Possum  County  would  have  to  wear  a  ther- 
mometer on  his  breeches  leg  to  warn  him  of  the  sud- 
den approach  of  chills  and  fevers.  My  friends,  it  is  a 
corrupt  party  that  would  thus  trample  upon  our  liber- 
ties and  destroy  our  homes.  I  would  rather  be  a  dog 
and  bay  the  moon  than  such  a  Possumite.  I  would 
rather  be  a  martyr,  crimsoning  the  earth  with  my 
blood,  than  to  filch  the  treasury  of  my  country  or  rob 
my  county  of  its  inalienable  rights.  Once,  now,  and 
forever,  give  me  liberty  or  give  me  death !"  [Immense 
cheering — prolonged  shouts — pandemonium  squeals.] 

It  was  at  this  juncture,  as  the  flood  of  patriotic  ora- 


Toadville's  Barbecue  63 

tory  floated  down  from  above,  that  ilic  hornet  episode 
took  place.     It  has  troubled  my  conscience  ever  since. 

In  due  i^rucess  of  time  thini;s  settled,  hornets,  cof- 
fee, and  people.  The  feast  began,  lloth  candidates 
stood  at  the  festive  board  on  the  court  green,  sur- 
rounded by  their  partisans,  each  esteemed  a  hero. 
Duobus  Rag  had  a  happy  twinkle  in  his  eye  at  the 
prospect  of  the  golden  showers  he  expected  to  fall 
from  fiscal  skies  into  the  pockets  of  his  followers,  and 
of  course  securing  to  him  any  office  in  the  gift  of  his 
constituency.  Nebuchadnezzar  Quid  had  the  look  of 
an  honest  man  that  was  about  to  perform  a  trick.  \'an 
Gobler,  candidate  for  constable,  stood  by  him. 

"Nebuchadnezzar,"  said  Van  Gobler,  "that  was  the 
speech  of  your  life.  It  will  carry  the  country  against 
the  canal  as  sure  as  gun-shooting." 

"Yes,  old  boy,"  replied  Quid;  "the  appropriation  is 
as  dead  as  Hector.  Rag's  old  party  is  corrupt,  made 
up  of  knaves.  There  ain't  an  honest  man  in  it ;  not  an 
individual  that  is  a  true  patriot  and  above  reproach. 
Then,  you  know  well  enough.  Van  Gobler,  that  if  these 
rotten  Democrats  get  this  immense  appropriation  from 
the  government,  I  can't  induce  Congress  to  vote  a  mil- 
lion dollars  to  change  the  county  seat  from  Toadville 
to  Gold  Center,  my  old  sand-farm,  }-ou  know,  worth 
seventy  cents  per  acre,  but  mighty  good  for  a  town. 
Then,  you  see,  we'll  get  appropriations  for  a  court- 
house and  a  jail  and  a  post  office — say  a  million  dollars 
for  the  farm  and  all.  But  don't  ever  mention  this  to 
these  thievino'  Democrats." 


THE    CAPERS    OF   CUPID 


Chapter  VI. 


When  a  boy  first  discovers  in  his  mother's  mirror 
an  incipient  hair  on  each  side  of  his  nose  and  just  be- 
low that  organ,  and  the  charity  of  his  parents  and  the 
imagination  of  the  girls  denominate  it  a  mustache,  he 
is  a  novel  and  amusing  phenomenon.  He  is  a  bundle 
of  dreams,  ambitions,  and  crudities.  At  times  he  ap- 
pears to  be  almost  rational  and  nearly  human.  He 
stands  on  a  spot  between  babydom  and  manhood, 
where  the  indefiniteness  of  the  babe  begins  to  wane 
and  the  aspirations  of  the  man  begin  to  wax.  His 
most  cherished  possessions  are  a  Barlow  knife,  a  rusty 
nail,  a  popgun,  a  billy  goat,  a  dirt  marble,  and  a  sweet- 
heart. It  is  of  this  last  piece  of  goods  I  now  wish  to 
speak. 

\\'hen,  for  the  first  time,  I  deemed  it  my  supreme 
duty  to  fall  in  love,  the  unwholesome  reflection  haunted 
me  that  I  was  advancing  in  age,  and  that  I  was  losing 
much  valuable  time  which  should  be  devoted  to  the 
mysteries  of  courtship.  I  barely  had  entered  my  teens, 
and  was  without  a  sweetheart !  This  was  a  serious 
disgrace  to  the  family  record — an  amazing  dishonor 
to  the  training  of  my  parents.  Had  they  not  carefully 
and  persistently  filled  my  mind  with  the  great  theme 
of  love  from  my  earliest  recollection  ?  When  heaven, 
(64) 


The  Capers  of  Cupid  65 

hell,  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  things  present,  things 
to  come,  things  above  the  earth,  things  on  the  earth, 
things  under  the  earth,  and  the  earth  itself,  had  all 
been  made  subordinate  to  this  vast  subject,  what 
waited  I  for  ? 

I  sat  down  and  wept  until  the  noon  hour :  then  my 
mother  appeased  me  with  peas.  There  is  no  fixed 
^ulf  l)etween  the  heart  and  the  stomach  of  a  lad,  for 
joys  that  would  pass  from  one  to  the  other  have  well- 
marked  channels.  Still,  in  my  reverie  I  said:  "Arise, 
Hereditv  Beans,  shake  thvself  from  the  dust,  anoint 
thy  head  with  oil,  tie  a  small  rainbow  about  thy  neck, 
and  start  upon  thy  adventurous  career,  killing  lions 
and  eating  honey,  to  charm  one  of  the  daughters  of 
Philistia!"  Thus  did  I  resolve  to  wipe  out  my  re- 
proach, and  take  rank  with  the  good  and  wise  of  all 
ages. 

True,  I  could  ride  colts,  wear  scarlet  cravats  on 
Sundays,  and  smoke  cigarettes  (for  which  my  parents 
should  have  made  me  smoke  in  a  different  fashion), 
but  after  all,  mused  I,  when  kings  lose  their  crowns, 
and  comets  their  tails,  what  is  a  fellow  to  do  without 
a  sweetheart?  The  very  thought  caused  a  funeral 
procession  of  melancholies  to  parade  all  the  avenues 
of  my  disturbed  imagination.  I  wept  again,  and  this 
time  my  mother  mollified  my  melancholy  with  melons, 
whilst  the  melody  of  heart  and  stomach  remained  un- 
broken. 

P)Ut  just  how  to  begin  a  love  matter,  T  knew  not.    I 

always  had  shunned  the  society  of  girls ;  not  because 

T  did  not  have  a  secret  admiration  for  the  sex,  but,  to 

tell  the  truth,  because  I  was  afraid  of  them.     A  girl 

5 


dd  Good  Gumption 

always  had  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  formidable  affair, 
anyhow.  I  never  went  into  a  store  that  sold  calico 
without  turning  pale,  and  I  never  climbed  a  sweet-gum 
tree  but  that  its  oozing  resin  reminded  me  painfully  of 
the  young  females  who  so  universally  fed  on  it.  I 
never  beheld  a  bird  of  bright  plumage  flying  in  the 
open  sky  but  that  it  sadly  recalled  a  maiden's  hat,  and 
caused  me  to  flee  to  the  nearest  cave,  or  else  to  pros- 
trate myself  on  the  ground  in  a  nervous  spasm.  If  I 
saw  a  bottle  of  pickles  or  a  green  apple,  my  heart  beat 
faster.  If  I  saw  a  ribbon  lying  in  the  road,  I  would 
ride  around  it  if  possible,  or  urge  Bucephalus  past  it 
at  his  best  speed.  If  a  mouse  or  a  bat  came  my  way, 
I  nearly  lost- my  breath,  for  I  fancied  I  heard  the 
scream  of  young  females.  I  was  strangely  aft'ected  by 
the  sight  of  a  maid,  and  nearly  everywhere  I  beheld 
something  that  reminded  me  of  the  sex;  hence,  I  was 
always  apprehensive. 

I  think  this  virgophobia,  or  fear  of  girls — if  I  Uuiy 
be  permitted  to  manufacture  a  word — was  brought  on 
by  an  unfortunate  experience  in  my  early  history.  I 
attended  a  Sunday-school  picnic,  as  sweet  and  as  inno- 
cent as  could  be,  and  was  seated  on  a  stump  in  an  oak 
thicket  with  my  face  buried  in  a  rind  that  a  few  mo- 
ments before  had  contained  half  a  watermelon.  I  was 
licking  up  the  last  sugary  water,  when  an  occurrence 
occurred.  A  dozen  maidens  with  flowing  hair,  having 
discovered  my  blissful  retreat,  invaded  it,  yelling  at" 
the  full  horse-power  of  their  voices,  calling  me  a 
"mammy's  boy,"  and  saying  I  was  as  quiet  and  as  gen- 
tle as  a  girl.  They  said  they  were  going  to  make  mc 
play  with  them,  and  that  I  should  not  be  so  girlish. 


The  Capers  of  Cupid  67 

Their  attentions  and  intentions  startled  me.  I  ran 
a  (jtiarter  of  a  mile  and  jumped  into  a  blaekberry  patch 
to  hide  from  my  pursuers.  But  on  they  sped  like  young- 
Amazons,  splitting'  the  welkin  with  shrieks  that  would 
have  made  pandemonium  feel  like  a  real  silence.  My 
heart  sank  within  me.  Neither  brier,  nor  entreaties, 
nor  guardian  angels  could  protect  me  from  their  wild 
assauli.  I  made  one  last  heroic  effort  to  free  myself 
from  these  feminine  pagans.  1  seized  the  most  ven- 
turesome one  and  kissed  her  soundly,  thinking  that 
surely  ni\  enemies  all  would  leave  me  in  horfor  and 
high  dudgeon.  Instead  they  pressed  around  me  the 
more  furiously,  each  asseverating  that  I  was  mean  as 
a  dog  if  I  didn't  kiss  her  the  same  way.  In  despair  1 
fainted. 

Taking  advantage  of  my  prostrate  condition,  the  lit- 
tle savages  put  an  apron  on  me,  curled  my  hair  in  imi- 
tation of  a  female's,  and  then  dragged  me  to  the  picnic 
grounds,  as,  in  moments  of  returning  consciousness,  I 
writhed,  and  pleaded,  and  wept.  lUit  my  frantic  ef- 
forts were  of  no  avail ;  for  my  tender  captors  rolled 
me  over  again  and  again  on  the  grass,  as  if  T  had  been 
a  l)arrel.  kissing  me  with  the  zeal  of  hornets,  and,  with 
the  spirit  of  viragoes,  accusing  me  of  being  as  tame  as 
a  little  girl. 

From  this  treatment  I  never  recovered.  I  spent 
whole  iiiglits  in  the  greatest  trepidation,  at  times  fan- 
cying I  saw  a  brood  of  winged  vipers  with  balls  of  fire 
issuing  from  their  eyes,  clad  in  frocks  and  aprons, 
chewing  gum,  grinning,  hissing,  squealing,  whooping, 
and  looking  very  much  like  small  female  people.  In- 
deed, my  excessive  fear  induced  an  attack  of  rheuma- 


68  Good  Gumption 

tism,  followed  by  ague  and  fever,  culminating  almost 
fatally  in  an  aggravated  case  of  mumps.  And  even  to 
this  day,  when  I  hear  a  girl  whoop,  cold  chills  run  over 
me  in  flocks,  and  I  often  lose  consciousness. 

It  is  not  surprising,  then,  that  on  occasions  when 
my  mother's  friends  brought  their  daughters  to  Shake- 
rag,  I  made  it  convenient  to  hunt  rabbits  by  day  and 
'possums  by  night,  and  at  meal-time  find  a  sweet  asy- 
lum in  a  plum  nursery.  Still  I  was  not  so  far  a  heathen 
but  that  I  would  sometimes  unconsciously  hum  the  im- 
mortal lines, 

The  rose  is  red.  the  violet  blue; 
Sugar's  sweet,  and  so  are  you. 

Of  course,  I  was  dreaming  of  the  ideal  maid,  not  of 
the  specimens  I  had  actually  met;  and  this  was  my 
ideal  poetry — this  the  couplet  I  longed  to  whisper  with 
unfaltering  lip  into  the  ear  of  some  bonnie  lass.  And 
yet,  the  idea  of  a  rough,  uncouth,  materialized  boy, 
who  ate  raw  potatoes,  turnips,  and  onions,  coming 
within  two  furlongs  of  a  sure-enough  live  girl  who 
floated  in  a  sea  of  cologne  and  was  decked  in  flounces, 
bows,  ribbons,  frizzes,  and  flowers,  seemed  a  magnifi- 
cent theory,  but  at  the  same  time  an  improbable  con- 
dition and  a  sublime  impiety.  Still,  such  things  occa- 
sionally had  been  done  with  considerable  success,  and, 
I  conjectured,  might  be  done  again. 

At  all  events,  one  bright  morning  in  May.  an  oppor- 
tunity was  given  me  to  test  the  feasibility  of  Cupid's 
art.  A  huge  barouche  drove  up  to  Shakerag  contain- 
ing Widow  Campbell  and  her  eleven-year-old  daugh- 
ter.    I  rushed  to  the  window,  and  gazed  and  mused. 


The  Capers  of  Cupid  69 

Hush,  all  things  earthly!  Breathe  your  softest  music, 
and  shed  your  sweetest  odors,  ye  winged  zephyrs! 
Hark!  I  hear  angelic  footsteps,  and  behold  cherubic 
shapes!  My  reverie  is  broken — a  moment  more  and 
I  must  face  destiny !  To  run  or  not  to  run,  that  ^vas 
the  question.  Cold  chills,  in  billows  a  yard  high  broke 
over  my  treml)ling  body,  the  blind-staggers,  like  a  cy- 
clone, struck  my  brain,  my  bones  loosened  and  rattled. 
I  looked,  I  saw,  I  tied.  As  I  ran,  I  thought  how  un- 
like Julius  Caesar  I  was. 

My  delay,  however,  made  it  impossible  for  me  to 
escape  unobserved,  and  forced  upon  me  the  most  try- 
ing ordeal  of  my  boyhood.  \Miere  is  the  youth  so  out 
of  accord  with  sublunar  ethics  that  he  can  witness  the 
majestic  advance  of  a  widow^  flanked  on  the  right  by 
a  buxom  daughter,  gorgeously  ri])boned  and  feath- 
ered, like  an  army  with  banners,  without  some  feeling 
of  alarm?  I  had  attacked  hornets,  fought  wasps, 
"chunked"  dogs,  and  routed  snakes,  but  I  am  free  to 
say  I  never  felt,  with  the  single  exception  of  the  picnic 
episode,  so  great  a  strain  upon  my  spinal  cord,  or  so 
severe  a  test  of  my  courage,  as  at  that  moment.  \\'ith- 
out  notice,  or  seeming  lapse  of  time,  the  visitors  en- 
tered the  sitting-room  with  such  an  uproar  of  laughter, 
shrieks,  exclamations,  and  interjections,  that  T  lost 
control  of  myself,  thinking  it  was  an  army  storming  a 
fort;  and  as  any  prudent  person  would  do,  T  sought 
protection  under  the  sofa.  T  might  as  well  have  tried 
to  hide  in  the  moon. 

For  a  boy  has  but  little  protection  in  this  world  :  and 
in  an  inappreciable  fraction  of  a  second.  T  was  hauled 
out  by  my  feet — and  the  feat  was  \\'idow  Campbell's. 


70  Good  Gumption 

I  was  gobbled  up,  squeezed,  mashed,  and  smothered 
with  kisses.  This,  too,  was  by  the  same  widow.  What 
was  left  of  me  she  stood  up  on  the  floor  and  introduced 
to  Polytechnic  Campbell,  a  pair  of  years  my  junior, 
and'  a  mile  or  so  better  looking. 

"Howdy !"  said  I,  stuffing  both  hands  into  my  pock- 
ets, and  dropping  upon  a  stool  in  the  corner  of  the 
room,  my  head  mathematically  arranged  in  the  angle 
of  the  walls,  as  if  posing  for  my  photograph.  Fixed 
thus,  I  rolled  the  whites  of  my  eyes  in  terror,  choking 
in  my  throat  in  the  attempt  to  swallow  myself.  My 
mother  at  length  relieved  the  situation  somewhat  by 
suggesting  that  I  should  take  Polytechnic  to  the  gar- 
den and  show  her  the  flowers.  As  an  arrow  shot  from 
a  bow,  I  darted  through  the  door  with  the  sweetest 
girl  on  earth  at  my  heels.  But  if  I  could  run  like  a 
deer,  so  could  she. 

In  the  very  act  of  trying  to  escape,  I  felt  my  heart 
beat  with  a  new  affection  and  I  fell  in  love  with  that 
little  vixen  the  first  time  she  cried:  ''Wait  for  me!" 
And  I  waited  for  her,  and  would  have  waited  till 
doomsday  if  need  had  been.  And  even  now,  at  this 
late  day,  I  often  have  to  wait  for  her,  just  as  I  did 
then.  But  that's  getting  ahead  of  my  story  somewhat, 
I  think,  and  therefore  to  it  we  will  return. 

In  the  garden  I  pointed  out  the  pinks  and  the  lilacs, 
showed  her  some  hills  of  corn  I  had  planted,  expa- 
tiated on  a  pumpkin  vine,  one  of  whose  expansive 
leaves  I  plucked  to  shade  her  as  a  parasol ;  gathered  a 
quart  of  sweet-betsies  and  poured  them  into  her  apron, 
hung  a  verbena  on  each  ear,  made  a  ring  of  cypress 
vine  for  her  finger,  wove  bracelets  of  honeysuckle  for 


The  Capers  of  Cupid  71 

her  wrists,  twisted  a  spirrea  crown,  studded  with  ge- 
raniuni  leaves,  rosebuds,  and  pansies,  for  her  hrow, 
and  became  stiperabundantly  happy  in  niy  new  role  of 
escort. 

After  half  an  hour  of  ecstatic  peregrination  through 
the  walks  of  the  garden,  thinking  possibly  my  young 
acquaintance  might  l)e  sufficiently  human  to  enjoy  a 
bit  of  fruit.  T  led  her  to  a  superb  cherry  tree  in  full  and 
glorious  bearing.  To  show  the  utmost  extent  of  my 
nimbleness,  I  leaped  into  the  tree,  and  in  a  moment 
seized  the  topmost  cherry  on  the  highest  limb,  and  this 
I  dropped  into  Polytechnic's  u])lifted  hands.  When  T 
had  filled  my  cap  with  fruit,  and  displayed  all  the  pos- 
sible agilities  of  a  squirrel,  I  put  a  tempting  cherry  in 
my  lips,  half-disclosed,  and  hanging  from  a  limb  by 
my  toes,  clasped  Polytechnic's  hands  in  mine,  and 
lifted  her  up  to  share  the  luscious  morsel.  But  in  spite 
of  every  precaution,  I  was  near  swallowing  the  cherry 
— and  the  girl  too — as  our  lips  came  into  inevitable 
collision.  She,  of  course,  blushed  and  administered  a 
soft  rebuke,  which  was  natural  and  right,  and  w'hich 
I  easily  forgave.  As  for  her  part,  when  T  explained 
how  exceedingly  difficult  it  is  to  prevent  such  things, 
no  matter  how  circumspect  one  may  be,  she  instantly 
was  appeased.  It  is  my  opinion,  after  considerable 
observation,  that  a  girl  thoroughly,  satisfactorily,  and 
finally  appeased,  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  specta- 
cles in  nature.  Like  the  glad  earth,  when  storm,  and 
cloud,  and  thunder  and  lightning  give  place  to  a  s])len- 
did  sky,  she  marshals  forth  all  the  atoms  of  possible 
loveliness,  which  she  combines  into  molecules  of  su- 
perb and  bewitching  beauty. 


72  Good  Gumption 

In  the  great  kindness  of  her  reconciled  heart,  the 
Httle  goddess  said,  with  the  rising  inflection:  "Let's  be 
sweethearts,  Red."  I  started  to  run.  She  gently  laid 
her  hand  on  my  arm,  exclaiming:  "Oh,  you  naughty 
boy !  Look  at  me."  I  looked  at  her.  Virgophobia,  so 
far  as  she  was  concerned,  instantly  left  me.  This  was 
love's  beginning. 

But  how  to  continue  this  beatific  state  became  a  mat- 
ter of  serious  perplexity.  The  idea  of  sitting  serenely 
down  under  a  cherry  tree  and  entertaining  a  maiden 
who  was  bubbling  over  with  life  and  romance  seemed 
a  provoking  abstraction.  I  never  had  studied  inter- 
jections, and  was,  hence,  incapacitated  for  conversing 
with  a  girl ;  but  something  must  be  done,  or  I  should 
disgrace  myself  and  lose  the  favor  of  my  young  ac- 
quaintance besides.  So  I  stood  on  my  head,  jumped 
up  and  cracked  my  heels  together  three  times  before 
touching  the  ground,,  turned  a  couple  of  somersaults, 
and  crowed  a  time  or  two.  These  antics  were  capital 
while  they  lasted,  but  as  every  youth  knows,  repeated 
antics  rapidly  become  stale.  What  to  do  next  was  a 
Gordian  knot.  Defeat  seemed  inevitable.  -  Surrender 
and  ignominy  were  imminent.  I  could  not  converse, 
and  at  the  same  time  had  capered  myself  out.  What 
next  ?  I  felt  that  I  would  undertake  any  or  all  of  the 
twelve  labors  of  Hercules,  or  even  join  the  daughters 
of  Danaus  in  their  task  of  drawing  water  in  sieves,  if 
I  could  but  finish  my  first  interview  with  Polytechnic 
creditably. 

But  just  at  this  crisis,  a  dark  shadow  fell  over  my 
young  life — my  harmless,  unsuspecting,  little  life.  My 
faith  in  female  infants  was  being  restored  rapidly,  and 


Q 

U.' 

c/5 

< 
E 
w 

GO 

w 


(73) 


74  Good  Gumption 

my  heart  was  responding  to  the  gentle  touch  of  femi- 
nine love,  when  this  materialized  angelet,  by  a  single 
arctic  breath,  chilled  the  caldron  in  which  my  fondest 
hopes  and  a  few  small  dreams  were  simmering. 

"Red,"  said  she — even  she — "you  are  so  real  nice,  I 
want  you  to  come  to  my  next  birthday  party.  Tooth- 
pick will  be  there.  Ma  says  he  is  the  finest  catch  in 
the  neighborhood.  He  is  my  other  sweetheart,  you 
know." 

"My  other  sweetheart!"  Is  life  worth  living?  I 
fell  down  to  the  ground  and  bellowed.  Streams  of 
steel-blue  smoke  issued  from  my  nostrils;  flames  of 
fire  burst  from  my  eyes;  my  heart  thumped  against 
my  ribs ;  my  liver  burst ;  my  backbone  warped  and 
cracked;  my  arms  swayed  to  and  fro  without  control; 
my  legs  twisted  together ;  my  lips  protruded ;  my  ears 
shriveled ;  my  neck  stretched  and  bent ;  my  toes  stuck 
together;  my  finger-nails  split;  my  hair  came  out  in 
batches;  my  skin  peeled  off  in  flakes;  and  my  brain 
rolled  round  like  a  marble  in  a  cavity.  At  least,  all 
this  seemed  to  happen. 

Suddenly  I  sprang  to  my  feet,  resolving  by  deeds  of 
heroism  to  win  Polytechnic  Campbell,  and  to  wipe  up 
the  very  dust  with  my  rival.  This  was  another  young 
dream.  I  cast  up  in  my  mind  whatever  seemed  peril- 
ous, heroic,  or  glorious,  until  at  length  a  lucky  idea 
struck  me,  making  it  possible  for  me  to  cover  myself 
with  glory. 

"Polytechnic,"  said  I,  as  I  broke  my  silence,  aglow 
with  hope ;  "you  doubtless  have  read  that  the  wise  cog- 
itate much,  and  that  out  of  the  multitude  of  silence 
cometh  knowledge  [said  she  hadn't  read  it] ,  and  I  have 


The  Capers  of  Cupid  75 

been  thinking-  how  i  may  show  you  a  deed  that  makes 
the  seven  wonders  feel  lonesome." 

Whistling  a  ditty,  I  hastily  bridled  my  young  circus 
mule,  fancying,  as  my  animal  was  named  Bucephalus, 
I  would  play  Alexander.  Never  did  dreamer  conceive 
more  magnificent  vision  than  passed  l)cfnrc  me  that 
minute.  I  led  the  mule  to  the  front  gate,  which  stood 
in  full  view  of  the  veranda  where  sat  the  Campbells. 
All  eyes  were  turned  upon  me;  my  father  was  rushing 
toward  me  with  wholesome  prohibitions;  my  mother 
was  screaming;  and  Polytechnic's  hands  were  clasped. 
As  the  self-appointed  hero  of  the  moment,  I  mounted 
the  tiuadruped,  sure  of  applause  and  immortal  glory. 
But  lo !  oh !  how  low  ! — a  lowered  neck,  a  plunge,  and 
an  elevated  tail  were  all  that  was  conspicuous  about 
Bucephalus,  while,  prostrate  in  the  dust,  Alexander 
wept  sore. 

\\' ith  one  hand  on  ni}-  bruised  leg,  and  the  other  on 
my  empty  stomach,  I  ingloriously  retired  to  the  barn- 
loft,  where,  sitting  disconsolate,  I  contemplated  sui- 
cide. I  felt  sorry  for  myself.  I  wept  some  tears. 
Alas!  the  choice  opportunity  of  my  life  had  slipped, 
and  the  golden  dream  of  earthly  joy  had  burst  like 
some  gilded  1nil)l)]c.  Reclining  on  a  bundle  of  fodder, 
I  more  than  once  repressed  the  rising  sob,  as  I  rul)bed 
my  aching  limbs,  and  dreamily  hummed  the  sad  re- 
frain : 

'  Tis  sweet  to  love, 

But  oh!  how  bitter — 
To  woo  a  dove, 

And  fail  to  git  her! 


THE     SPELLING     BEE 


Chapter   VII. 

After  my  sad  experience  with  Bucephalus,  respect- 
ing which  heretofore  I  have  ahvays,  for  reasons  hest 
known  to  myself,  observed  a  graceful  silence,  I  grew 
in  stature  and  in  wisdom.  I  happily  renewed  the  ac- 
quaintance of  Polytechnic  Campbell  soon  after  the 
melancholy  event,  and  was  henceforth  moved  by  a 
strange  inspiration.  As  men  cannot  bind  the  sweet 
influences  of  the  Pleiades,  so  a  boy  cannot  fetter  the 
sweeter  and  subtler  charms  of  an  unsophisticated  las- 
sie ;  and  I  would  as  soon  have  undertaken  to  burst  the 
bands  of  Orion,  or  put  the  Seven  Stars  in  my  pocket, 
as  to  break  the  magic  powers  that  began  to  control  me. 
In  other  words,  I  was  in  love. 

Polytechnic  Campbell !  Never  was  a  form  so  grace- 
ful— never  was  a  face  so  lovely!  On  each  cheek 
bloomed  a  scarlet  rose — in  each  rose  lived  a  bewitch- 
ing dimple.  Her  lips  sometimes  would  pucker  to  a 
shadowy  pout,  on  which  would  sport  at  times  a  heav- 
enly smile.  Her  eyes — but  what  shall  mortal  say  of 
such  immortal  things? — were  as  soft  as  the  sky,  as 
bright  as  a  star,  and  the  very  temples  of  Cupid  him- 
self, while  her  flowing  tresses  were  as  bright  gold  as 
the  celebrated  fleece  of  ancient  story.  But  what 
charmed  me  most  was  Polytechnic's  voice.  It  could 
(76) 


The  Spelling  Bee  77 

be  like  the  sharp  note  of  the  pibroch,  or  the  plaintive 
harmony  of  soft-soundini;-  llutes.  Jrier  silvery  tones 
could  imitate  at  will  the  gentle  murmtir  of  the  sea  at 
cahn,  or  the  terrible  roar  of  focalized  storms.  It  is 
needless  to  say  that  Miss  Campbell  was  the  belle  of 
the  neighborhood,  and  on  -every  public  occasion  the 
cynosure  of  admiring  and  enraptured  youths.  Yet, 
for  any  creature  born  of  the  earth,  with  mortal  tenden- 
cies and  sublunar  mien,  to  associate  himself  with  Poly- 
technic, or  to  aspire  to  possess  her  hand,  seemed  the 
unholy  climax  of  impertinence.  And  besides  I  was  in 
mortal  terror  of  her. 

But  "what  fools  these  mortals  be!"  In  spite  of  our 
clearest  conceptions  and  most  positive  convictions,  we 
court  the  impractical  and  attempt  the  impossible.  And 
even  to  this  day  it  makes  my  hair  stand  on  end — that's 
the  only  way  my  hair  can  stand — to  remember  that 
for  one  giddy  moment  I  dreamed  of  wooing  Widow 
Campbell's  daughter.  To  win  the  favor  of  my  fair 
neighbor  l^ecame  the  absorbing  thought  of  my  life,  and 
toward  the  solution  of  this  problem  I  devoted  all  the 
energies  of  my  soul.  As  a  matter  of  fact  I  never 
tackled  a  job  like  it. 

In  the  very  beginning,  the  prize  was  disputed  by  a 
formidable  rixal,  bearing  the  inharmonious  name  of 
Toothpick  \\'heazles.  Toothpick  was  the  IMordecai  of 
my  life.  He  sat  at  the  golden  gate  of  my  dreams  by 
night,  and  crossed  my  flowery  path  l)y  day.  Like  my- 
self, he  was  enamored,  and,  most  distressingly  for  me, 
our  affections  centered  on  the  same  object.  He  w^as 
six  months  older  than  myself,  a  span  taller,  and  in 
looks  had  a  seventy-five  per  cent  advantage,  besides 


78  Good  Gumption 

having  money,  saw-mills,  and  a  family  tree.  On  the 
contrary,  I  had  neither  money  nor  saw-mills,  but  I  did 
have  a  family  tree;  for  did  not  my  father  boast  de- 
scent from  Alfred  the  Great?  Still,  the  odds  were 
largely  against  me,  I  confess,  and  in  any  ordinary  pur- 
suit I  might  have  been  discouraged.  But  when  the 
prize  was  nothing  less  than  the  hand  of  Polytechnic 
Campbell,  it  was  not  to  be  abandoned  without  a  strug- 
gle. Incidentally  T  decided  that  in  that  struggle 
Toothpick  must  be  the  loser. 

In  the  schoolroom  we  stood  on  equal  footing;  for 
there  neither  saw-mills  nor  a  fat  purse  can  help  a  boy  > 
parse  a  sentence  or  solve  a  problem.  Recognizing  this 
pleasant  fact,  I  essayed  to  make  the  most  of  it.  The 
delightful  month  of  June  had  set  in,  toward  the  close 
of  which  the  final  exercises  of  Toutpantotum  Academy 
were  to  take  place.  The  chief  feature  of  these  exer- 
cises was  a  spelling  match,  followed  by  proper  cere- 
monies and  festivities.  The  honor  conferred  on  the 
successful  competitor  was  the  exalted  privilege  of  es- 
corting to  the  public  dinner  the  lassie  he  fancied  most, 
and  of  delivering  the  valedictory.  Before  this  honor, 
Olympic  glories  paled  and  the  golden  crowns  of  kings 
became  dross.  INIothers  used  no  greater  incentive  than 
to  point  out  to  their  sons  the  possibility  of  some  day 
becoming  the  crack  speller  at  Toutpantotum  Academy, 
while  am1:)itious  fathers  directed  their  boys  to  no  high- 
er goal  than  the  valedictory  address,  although  such 
direction  was  often  given  with  a  hickory  switch. 

The  bright  sim  of  that  great  day  at  length  arose. 
The  meadows  were  decked  with  flowers  and  scented 
with  sweetness.     The  lark  sprang  from  its  nest  of 


The  Spelling  Bee  79 

thorns  and  rejoiced  in  an  unclouded  sky.  Indeed,  as 
one  looked  on  the  beauteous  heavens  and  smiling  earth, 
and  felt  the  balmy  breath  of  summer  upon  the  cheek, 
it  seemed  as  if  glad  nature  were  about  to  run  over. 
At  the  hour  designated,  Toutpantotum  Academy  was 
crowded.  In  the  audience  sat  proud  fathers  and 
mothers,  trembling,  fearing,  hoping  for  their  sons, 
while  <»n  the  rostrum  sat  twenty-seven  boys,  half- 
frightened  out  of  their  wits,  wishing  heartily  they 
never  had  been  born.  It's  no  joke  to  get  a  bad  case  of 
stage-fright. 

As  for  my  part,  in  the  attempt  to  become  oblivious 
of  the  multitude,  I  tried  to  fasten  my  eyes  on  opposite 
walls  at  the  same  time,  and  to  count  flies.  While  I  was 
in  the  midst  of  this  useful  employment,  the  school  bell 
tapped  sharply,  and  so  wrought  upon  my  already  ex- 
cited nervous  system,  that  I  was  in  the  attitude  of  leap- 
ing through  the  window,  when  Aliss  Spider  announced 
that  the  ceremonies  would  be  opened  with  a  song,  ren- 
dered by  the  aspiring  spellers.  I  bit  my  lii)s  at  the  very 
thought  of  singing  before  such  a  concourse  of  people, 
crossed  and  uncrossed  my  legs  with  sufficient  variety, 
and  at  last  stood  u])  with  the  class  to  sing,  assuming  as 
nearly  as  practical  the  shape  of  a  corkscrew.  The  only 
song  I  cared  a  fig  for  was,  *'The  Campbells  are  com- 
in'.''  1  did  not  have  my  choice.  Iiowever,  and  sang 
something  else — I  think  it  was  "The  Star-Spangled 
Banner" — as  best  I  could,  for  my  voice  seemed  tied 
up  in  l)ig  hard  knots. 

It  was  a  time-honored  custom  for  the  audience  to 
put  test  words  to  the  class,  so  that  there  might  be  no 
possible  collusion  between  teacher  and  pupil.     It  was 


80  Good  Gumption 

a  seriously  solemn  time.  My  head  ached,  my  heart 
throbbed,  my  limbs  quaked.  The  cruel  audience 
laughed  and  twittered  and  giggled  and  blinked,  as  if 
nothing  of  moment  were  at  stake.  At  length  the  great 
assemblage  was  hushed  in  silence,  and  a  pin's  fall 
would  have  been  as  a  pair  of  earthquakes.  Miss  Spi- 
der invited  the  multitude  to  prepare  their  test  words 
and  put  them  one  by  one  to  the  class.  Then  ensued  a 
long  and  painful  silence. 

A  red-headed  man,  in  a  voice  which,  if  the  angle  of 
incidence  had  been  right,  could  have  split  a  gum  log, 
propounded  "knot.''  About  half  the  class  backed  out. 
The  other  half  came  through  with  banners  flying. 
Word  after  word  was  given,  whoever  missed  being 
ruled  out  of  the  match.  This  trying  process  continued 
until  Toothpick  and  myself  were  the  sole  contestants. 
Wheazles  never  seemed  to  be  more  thoroughly  him- 
self, more  self-possessed  and  confident  than  now\  As 
for  myself,  I  confess  to  some  misgivings ;  yet  I  put  on 
the  best  face  possible  under  the  circumstances,  assum- 
ing the  conscious  superiority  of  a  man  who  is  himself 
the  author  of  a  spelling  book.  But  the  crisis  came  at 
last.  A  slim,  dyspeptic  maid,  made  full  half  a  cen- 
tury before,  rising  in  the  audience,  announced,  amid 
melancholy  stillness,  "gnat."  And  on  the  orthograph)- 
of  this  word  we  were  allowed  three  minutes  to  reflect 
before  imperiling  our  reputations.  You  can  imagine 
that  we  took  the  limit. 

Excitement  was  running  high  in  the  assembly,  and 
I  myself  began  to  realize  the  situation.  Wheazle's 
relatives  and  friends  were  shouting,  "Hurrah  for 
Toothpick!"    Mine  were  shrieking,  "Three  cheers  for 


The  Spelling  Bee  81 

Heredity!"  My  parents,  standing  on  tiptoe,  turned 
their  loving  eyes  upon  me;  and  as  1  met  my  lather's 
gaze,  1  remembered  his  promise  to  give  me  the  old 
spotted  billy  goat,  in  case  of  my  success.  This  moved 
nic  greatly — but  what  is  a  billy,  nay,  two  billies,  com- 
pared with  the  esteem  of  a  bewitching  girl  ?  x\fter  all, 
it  was  Polytechnic  I  wanted.  And  it  was  Polytechnic 
1  intended  to  get. 

As  this  rellection  was  passing  through  my  mind,  I 
chanced  to  discover  in  a  distant  part  of  the  room  a  pair 
of  eyes  beaming  on  me,  and  shining  like  two  morning 
stars  in  a  cloudless  sky.  Why  were  they  turned  upon 
me  ?*  What  meant  those  cheeks,  crimsoned  with  blush- 
es that  came  and  died  away?  What  caused  that  ap- 
parent anxiety,  now  incapable  of  concealment?  P>ut 
should  1  fail — what  then?  Down,  horrid  thought! 
The  Greek  racer  at  the  Olympic  games,  with  the  olive 
crown  before  him;  with  poets,  historians,  and  war- 
riors looking  on;  with  all  Hellas  as  witness;  with  fires 
of  proud  ambition  burning  in  his  soul,  never  felt  more 
at  stake,  never  experienced  intenser  agony  than  did 
Heredity  Beans  at  that  moment.  Tt  was  the  worst  five 
minutes  I  ever  spent. 

"Gnat"  Avas  the  word  in  question.  Toothi)ick's.turn 
came  first.  Remembering  there  was  a  peculiarity 
about  the  word,  he  spelled  it  in  a  peculiar  way. 
"X-a-g-h-t,"  cried  my  competitor,  with  profound  com- 
placency. All  eyes  now  turned  toward  nic.  Drawing 
in  a  surplus  of  wind,  and  fixing  my  eyes  on  the  rafters, 
with  my  hands  in  my  pockets,  and  my  legs  arranged 
into  a  scalene  triangle,  T  chortled  with  an  infinitude  of 

delight   nnd    authority,    "g-n-a-t."      ''Right!    right!" 
6 


82  Good  Gumption 

shouted  the  vast  audience.  My  father  clapped  his 
hands,  exclaiming,  "Knowledge  is  power!"  My 
mother  fainted  for  very  joy.  My  own  heart  fluttered, 
and  my  head  swam  as  I  sat  on  the  rostrum  "whence  all 
but  me  had  fled,"  while,  in  accordance  with  the  eti- 
quette the  occasion  demanded,  I  crossed  my  legs,  blew 
my  nose,  and  smiled.  Gnats  had  often  been  in  my 
eyes  before,  but  never  did  they  seem  so  exalted  in  my 
sight  as  then. 

My  classmates  having  disposed  of  their  oratory  and 
gestures,  it  became  my  painful  duty  to  deliver  the  vale- 
dictory address  for  Avhich  the  impatient  audience  was 
clamoring.  Toothpick  had  just  taken  his  seat,  having 
alluded  to  me  as  a  penniless  and  savage  youngster,  un- 
soothed  by  the  music  of  a  family  saw-mill.  Then,  in- 
troduced by  Miss  Spider  as  the  most  illustrious  speller 
in  the  institution,  I  arose. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  I,  in  a  voice  frazzled 
by  modesty,  emotion,  and  stage-fright.  "This  is  the 
supreme  epoch  of  my  life — the  golden  hour  of  my  his- 
tory. But  language  fails  me.  [Took  a  drink  of  wa- 
ter.] For  this  hour  I  have  lived  and — er — um — and 
died.  My  most  cherished  dreams  are  realized.  There 
seems  nothing  further  for  me  in  life.  The  end  is 
reached,  the  goal  attained.  Farewell!  [^^^ater  and 
applause.] 

"Yes,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  this  occasion,  if  there 
is  any  of  it  left,  will  go  down  through  the  ages  bright 
with  immortality.  The  future  historian  will  draw 
from  the  records  of  to-day,  and  the  moralist  will  tithe 
the  marvels  you  behold  to  paint  a  model  or  adorn  a 
tail.     [You  see  I  got  somew^iat  mixed  here.]     By  the 


> 


c 

c 

c 


c 

< 
o 


Q 


t.' 


(83) 


84  Good  Gumption 

recital  of  these  things  the  young  will  be  stirred  to  in- 
creased diligence.  But  [more  water]  these  things  do 
not  make  me  proud.  Although  I  shall  live  in  the  na- 
tion's records,  be  embalmed  in  verse,  and  pictured  on 
the  brightest  pages  of  the  Second  Reader,  I  repeat, 
these  things  do  not  make  me  proud.  Though  genera- 
tions shall  point  to  me  with  pride,  and  affectionately 
link  my  name  with  Cadmus  and  Robinson  Crusoe,  still, 
I  bear  it  with  resignation  and  fortitude.  Genius  must 
pay  the  tribute  imposed  upon  it.  Farewell !  [Water 
and  loud  cheers.] 

"Now  it  becomes  my  painful  duty  to  say  farewell. 
To  you,  my  dear  competitor,  I  extend  the  greeting  of 
sympathy.  You  have  fallen  in  a  noble  cause,  and 
should  submit  to  the  ruling  of  fate.  Your  calamity  is 
not  due  to  lack  of  industrv  and  want  of  zeal,  but  to  at- 
tenuation  of  brains,  for  which  you  are  not  entirely  re- 
sponsible. Allow  me,  as  one  deeply  interested  in  you, 
to  say,  my  fellow-speller,  that  it  is  dangerous  to  strain 
at  a  gnat  and  seek  to  swallow  a  Campbell.  [Poh-- 
technic  blushed  and  the  people  cheered.  ]  But  remem- 
ber, ardent  disciple  of  the  spelling  book,  that  when 
night  is  darkest,  and  storms  around  you  roll  fiercest, 
you  still  have  your  saw-mill,  in  whose  sepulchral 
depths  you  can  find  a  blissful  refuge,  and  listen  with 
dreamful  magnificence  to  the  rattling  of  your  ances- 
tors' bones  going  through  it.  Farewell !  [Water  and 
showers  of  laughter.  ] 

*'To  you,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  we  owe  unmeasured 
gratitude.  You  have  covered  yourselves  and  this  oc- 
casion with  great  glory.  Your  presence  has  been  our 
inspiration,  while  your  smiles  have  been  the  rainbow 


The  Spelling  Bee  85 

glorifying  the  sk}-  of  Toutpantotum  Academy.  May 
you  live  forever  and  go  to  your  graves  in  peace.  Fare- 
well!   [Water  and  tears.] 

"To  you,  dear  teacher,  we  owe  this  immortal  hour. 
Wq  never  could  ha\e  risen  to  such  attainments  or 
grasped  the  golden  key  of  learning,  but  for  your  guid- 
ing hand.  ?^[iss  Spider,  in  the  name  of  the  spelling 
class  I  say,  farewell ;  and  in  m\'  own  name  I  say,  with 
ever  deepening  devotion,  with  accumulating  softness, 
and  with  affections  flowing  in  geometrical  progres- 
sion, I  love  you.  You  have  tried  to  make  this  world 
better.  Vou  have  sown  the  seeds  of  knowledge  that 
to-day  have  borne  their  golden  harvests.  You  have 
been  building  larger  than  you  knew.  Little  did  you 
realize  what  you  \\ere  doing,  when  day  by  day  you 
were  training  a  youth  whose  fame  is  Ijounded  only  by 
the  confines  of  matter,  and  whose  record  is  punctuated 
with  stars. 

"Go  on  with  the  good  work;  sow  spelling  books,  and 
you  will  reap  geniuses.  Holmes,  in  his  "Democrat  at 
the  Breakfast  Ta1)le"  [mixed  again],  has  remarked 
that  the  Boston  statehouse  is  the  very  center  of  the 
solar  system;  but.  kind  priestess  of  learning,  by  your 
toil  and  sacrifice,  you  have  made  old  Toutpantotum 
Academy  not  only  the  hub  of  the  universe,  but  the  hub-  * 
1)ub  of  world-renowned  spelling  bees.  Hereafter,  at 
least  one  mute,  inglorious  ^lilton  will  rise  up  to  call 
you  blessed.  Farewell.  [The  audience  applauded, 
Miss  Spider  wept,  and  T  choked  and  drank  water.] 

"To  you,  fellow-classmates,  T  bid  a  tearful  adieu. 
[Brushed  a  small  tear  from  my  left  eye.]  We  have 
walked  together  in  these  classic  shades,  and  sat  within 


86  Good  Gumption 

these  renowned  walls.  But  in  your  tears  remember 
me.  You,  too,  some  day,  like  me,  may  reap  honor  and 
fame.  I  once  dared  not  dream  of  standing  on  this 
proud  eminence.  I  once  thought  such  dizzy  heights 
impossible;  but  labor  omnia  -c'iiicit.  By  toil,  presever- 
ance,  and  pluck,  you  may  some  day  stand  in  my  tracks. 
I  know  it  seems  like  a  dream  to  you,  but  what  has  been 
done,  may  be  done  again.  Remembering  that  there 
can  be  no  crown  without  a  cross,  on  your  banner  write 
'Excelsior,'  and  let  your  motto  be  'Nil  desperanduin.' 
Now,  fond  spellers,  good-by !  And  when  the  sands  run 
low  in  the  glass  of  time,  and  the  sun  empurples  the 
western  clouds,  and  you  look  back  to  these  halcyon 
days,  you  will  experience  the  majesty  and  mystery  of 
the  classic  line  of  the  poet,  'rcducfio  ad  absurdiun' 
Farewell!  [Took  my  seat  amid  torrents  of  applause 
and  supernumerary  congratulations,  particularly  upon 
the  excellence  of  my  Latin,  which  nobody  understood.] 
The  climax  had  now  come,  and  the  excitement,  so 
far  from  abating,  became  tenfold  more  intense.  The 
universal  question  was,  "Who  will  be  the  maid  of 
honor  ?  Who  will  be  deemed  worthy  to  go  arm-in-arm 
to  the  public  dinner  with  the  boy  who  can  spell  'gnat?'" 
Rising  to  my  full  proportions,  glancing  significantly 
to  the  four  points  of  the  compass,  I  descended  from 
the  stage,  and,  amid  deafening  cheers,  clapping  of 
hands,  and  admiring  looks,  offered  my  arm  to  Poly- 
technic Campbell.  Alany  a  girl  wilted,  but  I  couldn't 
help  it.  What,  thought  I,  are  saw-mills,  or  riches,  or 
Toothpick  ^^'heazleses?  Oh!  ye  transient  things  of 
earth,  farewell!  Tell  me  not  in  mournful  numbers  a 
little  learning  is  a  dangerous  thing.    Brains,  mused  I, 


The  Spelling  Bee  87 

brains  are  what  this  age  demands.  Covered  with  glo- 
ry, with  ni}'  most  sanguine  dreams  reaHzed,  and  with 
Polyteclmic  swinging  seraph-Hke  on  my  arm,  I  led  the 
surging  throng  to  the  festive  board. 

Dinner  over,  under  the  wide,  spreading  branches  of 
ihe  oaks  we  lingered  till  late  evening,  my  tongue  all 
the  while  being  the  pen  of  a  ready  writer.  As  the  joc- 
und hours  sped  on,  I  entertained  my  love  with  a  re- 
cital of  my  narrow  escapes  from  snakes,  and  matters 
of  like  moment,  till  twilight  warned  us  that  for  a  sea- 
son the  gates  of  Elysium  must  close.  As  a  parting 
token.  Polytechnic  pinned  a  white  bud  on  the  lapel  of 
my  jacket,  whispering  softly,  "Remember  the  giver!" 

"Remember  the  giver?"  repeated  I,  w^th  softness 
condensed.  "Wliy,  Polytechnic,  not  onl\-  the  giver, 
but  the  flower,  pin,  and  all,  are  forever  sacred,  from 
the  rising  of  the  sun  to  the  demise  of  the  last  jay-bird." 

Proud  of  this  sentiment,  T  rushed  to  a  jimson-weed 
hard  by,  and  plucking  its  choicest  bloom,  entwined  it 
in  Polytechnic's  golden  curls.  T  think  T  could  have 
written  poetry,  at  this  juncture,  by  the  mile  instead  of 
by  the  foot,  but  the  hour  was  advanced,  and  tenderly 
we  spoke  appropriate  words  of  adieu. 


REVIVING  SHOUTING  CHURCH 


Chapter  VIII. 

The, excitement  occasioned  by  the  spelling  match 
had  pretty  efitectually  died  away,  when  a  "revival" 
was  appointed  to  begin  on  the  first  Sunday  in  August, 
creating  as  much  interest  in  the  breasts  of  the  good 
people  of  Shouting  Church  as  did  the  Jewish  Pass- 
over at  Jerusalem. 

Every  housewife  in  the  vicinity,  with  merr}^  heart 
and  tuneful  lips,  in  view  of  the  "big  meetin','  made 
vigorous  preparations,  which  consisted  largely  in  bak- 
ing cakes,  roasting  meats,  and  frying  chickens. 
Sumptuous  tables  were  spread  under  the  towering 
oaks  of  the  churchyard,  trembling,  sighing,  and  groan- 
ing beneath  variously-served  chicken,  lamb,  ham, 
bread,  biscuits,  potatoes,  pickles,  custards,  pies,  and 
cakes,  to  say  nothing  of  unmeasured  quantities  of. 
peaches,  apples,  grapes,  and  piles  of  watermelons  dot- 
ting the  groimd  everywhere.  \Miile  many,  having  the 
peace  and  enlargement  of  Zion  at  heart,  sought  the 
benefits  of  grace,  and  strove  to  bring  sinners  to  a  reali- 
zation of  their  woe,  others,  viewing  the  meeting  as  a 
protracted  picnic  rather  than  a  religious  gathering,  a 
season  of  amusement  rather  than  of  spiritual  worship, 
placed  the  interests  of  the  soul  at  a  fearful  minimum, 

and  paid  adoration  to  their  stomachs. 
(88) 


Reviving  Shouting  Cluircli  89 

After  much  waiting,  the  morning  of  the  first  Sab- 
bath in  August  dawned.  A  magnificent  sun  bathed 
hill  and  dale  in  waves  of  golden  light,  and  jubilant 
throngs  of  humanity  focused  at  Shouting  Church. 
Many  who  had  not  visited  a  place  of  worship  for  ten 
years  or  more,  were  drawn  In'  the  curiosity  that  only 
a  revival,  a  circus,  a  bai)tizing,  or  a  funeral  can  ex- 
cite. Even  old  brother  Crankside  was  there,  whose 
continued  absence  had  been  a  source  of  much  grief  to 
the  brethren,  and  Sister  Periodical,  one  of  the  old 
standards,  who  had  vowed  never  to  put  her  foot  in- 
side the  church  door  again,  came  to  receive  a  few 
drops  from  the  shower  of  blessings.  A  number  of  ex- 
cluded innocents  hung  around,  indulging  the  hope  that 
their  spiritual  shoes  might  be  half-soled  and  better 
adapted  to  Jordan's  rugged  path,  while  a  variety  of 
broken-down  pilgrims  sat  in  the  fence-corners  of  Ca- 
naan, exchanging  sorrows  and  desiring  to  refill  their 
neglected  lamps. 

The  meeting  continued  from  day  to  day,  but  the 
spiritual  pulse  was  slow.  Elder  Combustible  preached 
furiously,  and  burst  one  of  his  suspenders  in  the  good 
work,  but  still  the  happy  moment  came  not,  and  sin- 
ners scorned  the  message  of  love.  The  ungodlv  had 
been  urged  forward  to  the  "anxious  seat"  as  the  pan- 
acea of  all  human  ills,  but  alas!  no  one  seemed  anxious 
but  the  preacher,  and  no  one  accepted  the  invitation 
but  a  half-witted  villager,  who,  from  having  been  a 
''mourner"  at  every  ]irotracted  service  in  the  vicinity 
for  fifteen  years,  had  acquired  the  appellative  distinc- 
tion of  Nest-egg. 

The  discouraged  pastor,  looking  matters  squarely 


90  Good  Gumption 

in  the  face,  announced  that  the  church  at  once  would 
enter  into  a  "quandary"  meeting,  for  the  purpose  of 
finding  out  just  where  the  difficulty  was  concealed. 

'The  quandary  session,"  said  the  elder,  "will  be 
opened  with  prayer  by  Brother  Nevervary,"  who,  with 
unfailing  promptitude,  said  a  prayer  which  long  since 
had  become  a  sort  of  unwritten  model  throughout  the 
English-speaking  world.  This  prayer,  however,  had 
been  heard  too  often  to  produce  any  effect,  other  than 
to  elicit  a  few  weak  "aniens"  from  half  a  dozen  drow- 
sy brethren,  and  to  amuse  a  score  of  godless  boys,  who 
had  learned  by  heart  the  stereotyped  petition,  and  in  a 
low,  quizzical  tone  of  voice,  apparently  dictated  each 
sentence  to  the  aged  suppliant. 

The  performance,  nevertheless,  passed  for  prayer, 
and  the  meeting  sat  once  more  serenely  calm.  For 
once  in  his  life,  Elder  Combustible  was  at  sea.  Usu- 
ally he  regulated  his  meetings  and  determined  the  de- 
gree of  religious  interest  by  the  movements  of  Sister 
Tearful,  who  was  famous  in  such  aft'airs  as  "Combus- 
tible's  thermometer."  But  now,  alas!  the  indications 
were  appalling.  The  mercury  was  low,  Sister  Tearful 
was  dry,  and  Nest-egg  alone  sat  gloomy  and  unmajes- 
tic  in  the  seat  of  the  penitents. 

"Something's  the  matter — there's  an  Achan  in  the 
camp !"  exclaimed  the  perplexed  elder ;  *'and  he  must 
drop  the  golden  wedge  and  strip  off  the  Babylonish 
garment  before  the  stream  of  joy  shall  flow,  and  the 
desert  blossom  as  the  rose.  Where's  the  hindering 
cause,  brethren  ?" 

This  direct  interrogation  brought  Brother  Sniffles 
to  his  feet,  who  observed  that  in  his  opinion  the  meet- 


Reviving  Shouting  Church  91 

ing-  lacked  steam.  "That's  what's  the  matter,"  joined 
in  Sister  Periodical,  excitedly.  ''If  yoti  want  the  pot 
to  bile,  you  must  have  al^undance  of  steam." 

'The  pot's  got  to  bile  afore  you  get  the  steam,"  ob- 
served old  Brother  Safety  Valve,  logically.  "An'  the 
pot  can't  bile  'cept'n  it's  got  fire  under  it,  an'  the  fire 
can't  burn  if  folks  stan's  aroun'  contin'ally  llingin' 
water  on  it." 

"In  my  opinion,"  said  the  elder,  "Brother  Safety 
Valve  has  hit  at  the  root  of  the  matter.  I  fear  there 
are  ungodly  members  in  Shouting  Church,  whose  cor- 
rupt lives  and  scandalous  practices  are  a  reproach  to 
Christianity,  and  for  whose  iniquity  God  withholds  his 
Spirit."  Here  the  preacher  paused,  with  Valve  and  a 
few  like  him  nodding  a  hearty  assent,  while  the  mem- 
bers generally  looked  woefully  solemn.  "Now,"  con- 
tinued the  elder,  in  authoritative  accents,  "the  good  of 
the  church  demands  that  we  should  take  some  steps 
to  discover  at  whose  door  the  sin  lies.  Who  is  the 
guilty  party  ?  AMio  hath  covered  Zion  with  shame  and 
given  offence  unto  Israel  ?    Let  him  speak !" 

Sister  Tearful,  to  throw  the  cloak  of  zeal  over  her 
own  hollow  pretensions,  saddled  the  sin  on  Jim  Crock- 
er for  crossing  his  feet  while  the  fiddle  was  playing. 
Sister  Sorrowful  arraigned  Nancy  Dovetail  for  sing- 
ing a  reel  at  the  last  corn-shucking.  'Squire  Crank- 
side  preferred  a  charge  against  Jake  Spatterboard, 
"  'cause,"  said  he,  "Jake  ha'int  'tended  mectin'  sense 
the  baptizin'."  Other  indictments  in  superlative  abun- 
dance were  at  the  tongues'  end  of  the  accusers,  when 
Elder  Combustible  interposed. 

"You  have  tithed  mint,  anise,  and  cummin."  said 


92  Good  Gumption 

he,  caustically,  "but  the  weightier  matters  of  the  law 
you  have  studiously  neglected.  I  hear  reports  of  dis- 
honesty, profanity,  drunkenness,  covetousness,  and 
lying  among  you;  yet  you  have  treated  these  things  as 
virtues."  Then,  turning  to  a  number  of  delinquents 
whose  weaknesses  lay  in  the  above-mentioned  specifi- 
cations, his  cheeks  aglow  with  righteous  indignation, 
he  concluded,  "I  tell  you  in  love,  yet  plainly,  they  that 
do  such  things  shall  be  damned." 

Stung  to  the  quick,  old  Spasmodic  rose,  trembling, 
and  delivered  himself. 

"Bretherings,"  said  he,  with  decision;  "this  makes 
forty  year  I  has  been  a  member  of  the  church,  an'  as 
fur  as  I  'members,  I  never  has  knowed  a  'ligious  in- 
trust to  be  started  by  discussin'  sich  p'ints  as  tem- 
per'nce  an'  honesty;  an'  furdermo',  if  you  interduce 
'em  here,  it  will  invariable  fling  coolness  on  the  meet- 
in'.  An'  mo'n  that,  here  an'  thar,  I  moves  unanimous 
that  we  invite  Parson  Smoke,  the  evangelist,  who 
leaves  these  minor  p'ints  in  the  background  an'  preach- 
es erbout  great  matters  like  hebenly  rest  an'  rickogni- 
tion,  to  come  an'  'spoun'  the  gawspel  fur  er  few  days, 
beginnin'  with  termorrow.  \\'hat  we  wants  is  fire, 
says  I !" 

The  venerable  Spasmodic  took  his  seat,  the  motion 
was  carried  as  by  a  whirlwind,  and  the  quandary  meet- 
ing closed,  the  disciples  of  fuss  crying,  "Fire!  fire! 
fire !" 

Sure  enough,  next  morning  at  eleven  o'clock  Par- 
son Smoke  appeared  on  the  ground,  creating  no  little 
sensation  among  professors,  and  arousing  dubious 
conjectures  among  the  ungodly.    His  reputation  hav- 


Reviving  Shouting  Church  93 

ing  preceded  liiin,  some  of  his  admirers  stood  on  the 
chtirch  steps  recounting-  his  labors  and  marvelous  suc- 
cesses. 

"Yes,"  chimed  in  Spasmodic,  "I  'tended  er  Vival  he 
hilt  at  Coonskin  Lluirch,  an",  if  I'm  livin',  he  nat'ally 
raked  'em  in  by  scores  an'  forties.  Everything  was 
er  blazin'  at  ole  Coonskin  fur  onct,  an'  some  un  'em 
said  how  it  was  as  glorious  er  meetin'  as  the  apostle 
ministers  hilt  in  days  past  an'  gone.  He'll  tech  er 
match  to  the  tinder  an'  have  these  good  ole  sisters  er 
holler  in'  an'  er  weepin'  afore  this  time  termorrow.  If 
he  don't  I  hain't  no  prophet,  I  hain't." 

"Xur  is  me,"  sniffled  Sniffles,  indorsing  what  had 
been  said,  and  about  to  deliver  himself  further,  when 
the  choir,  in  notes  of  thunder,  announced  the  hotu^  of 
worship. 

"The  first  thing  to  do,"  whispered  the  evangelist  to 
Combusti1)le,  as  they  walked  up  the  aisle,  "is  to  stir 
up  the  brethren,  for  I  can  sway  no  power  over  sinners 
so  long  as  the  Lord's  people  are  cold  and  indifferent. 
Xow  point  out  to  me  the  most  impulsive,  emotional 
sister  in  the  congregation — one  who,  under  the  strong 
influences  of  the  Spirit,  wouldn't  mind  giving  audible 
expression  to  her  inward  peace." 

"W'e  have  quite  a  num1)er  who  can  fill  that  bill,  but 
you  will  find  Sister  Tearful  an  tmfailing  witness  to 
the  truth,  as  also  is  Sister  Periodical,  if  the  mood 
strikes  her.  The  latter,  however,  is  the  more  boister- 
ous in  the  manifestation  of  her  joy." 

"She's  a  daisy,"  whispered  Smoke,  entering  the  pul- 
pit and  announcing  to  the  choir  "The  Old  Ship  of 
Zion."       - 


94  Good  Gumption 

The  evangelist  preached  briefly  and  impressively  of 
the  wonders  he  had  seen  and  done,  and  portrayed 
touchingly  the  death-beds  of  sainted  little  girls,  who 
had  caught  glimpses  of  the  angels  and  had  gone  to 
heaven  on  shining  wings.  He  then  described  minute- 
ly the  meeting  of  the  saints  in  the  world  above,  pic- 
turing vividly  husbands  and  wives  rushing  together 
in  sacred  squeeze,  children  running  a  race  to  embrace 
first  a  departed  mother,  and  all  the  hosts  of  light  war- 
bling one  eternal  song  as  the  chief  end  of  the  heavenly 
life  and  the  goal  of  celestial  activity.  In  spite  of  the 
evangelist's  description,  I  always  have  thought  I  would 
like  to  go  to  heaven. 

"Now,"  finally  said  the  gifted  speaker,  "I  want  all 
Christians  to  come  forward  and  shake  hands  with  me, 
while  the  choir  sings  'Children  of  the  Heavenly 
King.'  "  ^  A  numerous  throng  showed  their  apprecia- 
tion of  the  privilege,  patrolling  the  aisle  in  unmistaka- 
ble ecstacies,  shaking  not  only  the  preacher's  hand,  but 
that  of  everybody  else  they  could  reach.  This  was 
Smoke's  plan  of  "getting  up  steam,"  and  it  proved 
eminently  successful.  Indeed,  all  hands  were  steam- 
ing, and  not  a  few  were  about  to  boil  over.  Spasmodic 
was  simmering. 

Turning  suddenly  and  vehemently  toward  the  un- 
converted, the  accomplished  exhorter  next  displayed 
his  wonderful  powers  of  persuasion. 

"Let  every  sinner  in  the  house,"  said  he,  "who  de- 
sires to  go  to  heaven,  arise  and  come  to  these  anxious 
seats  for  mercy  and  life,  while  the  brethren  sing  an 
appropriate  hymn.    Sing,  brethren." 

Nest-egg,  solemn  and  alone,  promptly  obe'yed. 


Reviving  Shouting  Church  95 

'Thank  the  Lord!"  shouted  the  overjoyed  cvanj^el- 
ist;  "thank  the  Lord!  Xow,  if  for  any  cause  you  do 
not  see  fit  to  come  to  the  mourners'  bench,  please  hold 
up  your  rig-ht  hand,  and  that  will  do  as  well."  Not  a 
soul  stirred.  "I  shall  now  vary  the  invitation  a  little. 
Let  every  unconverted  person  in  ilic  house  who  de- 
sires to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come,  stand  up."  A  lit- 
tle tallow-faced  girl  stood  up.  "Glory!"  screamed 
Smoke,  in  an  eruption  of  ecstasies.  "Now,  if  any  one 
is  interested  about  his  soul,  please  raise  the  right 
hand."  No  response.  "Then,  the  left."  Still  no  re- 
sponse. "Now  I  make  this  request :  All  who  w^ant  the 
Christians  present  to  pray  for  them,  will  please  kneel 
down."  Every  knee  was  rigid.  "Then  nod  your  head 
— then  crook  your  finger — then  wink  one  eye — then 
poke  out  your  tongue." 

But  sinners  were  obdurate.  The  earnest  man,  how- 
ever, had  the  burden  of  souls  on  him,  and  made  a  last 
strong  appeal.  "If  any  one  here,  man,  woman,  or 
child,  male  or  female,"  said  he,  "wishes  to  escape  the 
terrors  of  the  bottomless  pit  and  start  to-day  for  glory 
and  the  New  Jerusalem,  let  him  blow  his  nose." 

Not  a  nasal  organ  performed  the  desired  function. 
The  parson  had  labored  so  far  in  wain,  Ijut  his  re- 
sources, as  we  shall  see,  were  not  yet  exhausted.  An 
hour's  recess  being  given  for  dinner,  the  congregation 
left  the  sanctuary,  discussing  the  versatile  preacher, 
his  wonderful  sermon,  and  his  powerful  appeals. 

During  dinner  hour,  I  left  Jack  Cheesequakes  and 
Nancy  Dovetail  in  charge  of  a  huge  watermelon,  and, 
in  the  blissful  company  of  A\''idnw  Campbell's  angelic 
dattghter  sauntered  d^wn  to  the  spring.     Polytechnic 


96  Good  Gumption 

for  once  was  grave;  usually  she  was  as  mirthful  as  a 
lark.  Her  very  smile  was  sad ;  still,  for  the  life  of  me, 
I  couldn't  help  feeling  like  eating  her  up.  But  I  didn't 
do  it. 

We  returned  in  silence  to  the  church — silence  I 
say,  because  my  fair  companion  was  too  embarrassed 
to  speak,  and  I  was  too  sheepish  to  venture  an  angle 
of  vision  beyond  my  big  toes,  realizing  that  Polytech- 
nic now  understood  the  secret  workings  of  my  mind, 
and  had  the  advantage  of  me.  Besides,  how  did  I 
know  I  would  ever  get  such  a  chance  again?  The 
blackness  of  darkness ! 

The  great  congregation  w^as  once  more  seated,  and 
the  usual  preliminaries  were  over,  w^ien  the  versa- 
tile gentleman  in  cloth  requested  all  professing  Chris- 
tians present  to  bow  at  their  seats  and  sing  on  their 
knees.  This  was  a  novel  feature  in  protracted  meet- 
ings, but  it  took  like  wdldfire  among  the  simple  folk  of 
Shouting  Church.  Of  course  all  knelt ;  that  is,  all  came 
as  near  it  as  possible,  for  Sister  Periodical,  besides 
having  eaten  rather  heartily,  w^as  of  a  rotund  shape 
unsuited  to  the  kneeling  posture,  and  sat  flat  on  the 
floor.  Nest-egg  rested  on  his  stomach.  Not  a  few 
squatted.  It  was  indeed  altogether  a  most  interesting 
and  picturesque  scene,  though  some  people  were  so 
eccentric  as  to  say  they  saw  no  connection  between 
such  things  and  religion. 

"Arise!"  cried  Smoke,  ''and  testify!"  Then,  ap- 
proaching the  periodic  disciple,  he  whispered,  "We 
expect  to  hear  from  you  immediately,  sister.  The  suc- 
cess of  the  meeting  depends  upon  you.  Give  a  lusty 
shout  for  the  Tord." 


C 


So  : 


J  C 

w  _: 
H 

<  w 

3  ,^ 

o 
> 

o 

a: 


< 


o 


(97) 


98  Good  Gumption 

And  she  gave  it.  Pointing  her  huge  fists  toward  the 
stars,  and  developing  a  bhssful  smile,  the  proportions 
of  which  I  hesitate  to  calculate  without  the  help  of  the 
logarithmic  table,  she  broke  loose  most  zealously. 
Then  followed  in  quick  succession  those  tried  and 
faithful  worthies,  Sisters  Tearful  and  Sorrowful. 
Brother  Sniffles,  determined  not  to  be  outdone,  shoved 
off  himself,  clapping  his  hands  at  a  furious  rate,  ac- 
companied by  Crankside,  Spasmodic,  and  a  host  of  old 
heroes,  whose  zeal  was  to  knowledge  as  infinity  to 
zero. 

Nest-egg  himself  became  unusually  anxious,  weep- 
ing and  writhing  on  his  seat,  observing  which,  some  of 
the  boys  declared  he  was  "pipped."  But  when  the  long 
and  patient  seeker  arose  and  delivered  his  testimony 
in  deafening  tones  of  exultation,  a  dozen  voices  cried 
simultaneously,  "Nest-egg's  hatched  at  last!"  Some 
asked  whether  it  was  a  rooster  or  a  pullet,  while  others 
declared  it  to  be  a  goose.  This  was  the  first  profession 
of  the  meeting. 

Resolved  to  make  the  most  of  the  occasion,  the  de- 
lighted Smoke  sent  the  jubilant  shouters  among  the 
pews  as  heralds  of  mercy,  stirring  up  things  as  they 
went.  They  led  mourners  by  the  score  to  the  anxious 
seat.  Polytechnic  went  up  in  custody  of  Sister  Sor- 
rowful, seeing  which,  my  pulse  quickened,  and  I  came 
near  going  up  myself.  The  mourners'  benches  were 
becoming  rapidly  popular,  and  matters  were  moving 
on  briskly.  About  six  "came  through"  a  minute.  As 
they  "perfessed,"  to  use  Sister  Periodical's  language, 
they  arose  Hmberly  from  their  seats  and  then,  clapping 
their  hands,  wiping  their  eyes,  smiling,  laughing,  cry- 


Reviving  Sliouting  Church  99 

ing,  f^houling.  they  rushed  frantically  down  the  aisle 
to  some  unconverted  relative  or  friend,  either  kneeling 
and  imploring  them  to  go  forward,  or  hugging  them 
most  emi)hatically. 

Stirring  times,  those!  Indeed  the  penitents  began 
to  profess  so  rapidl}-.  that  po])-corn  in  a  skillet  over  a 
bed  of  coals,  was,  in  comparison,  a  tame  performance. 
At  length,  as  beautiful  as  a  new-born  rose  and  as 
graceful  as  a  comet,  Polytechnic  professed,  and  started 
for  me.  "The  Campbells  are  coming,"  said  T ;  and  by 
my  side  sat  the  darling  girl.  I  could  have  stayed  there 
a  week. 

"Won't  you  go  forward.  Red?"  she  pleaded,  but  the 
mystery  l)eing  not  altogether  satisfactory,  I  replied, 
"I'm  a-thinkin'.  Polytechnic." 

"But,"  said  the  bewitching  creature,  "won't  you  do 
it  for  my  sake?^" 

"^^'hat  ?  Polvtechnic,  for  vour  sake?  AMiv.  I'd 
wade  through  millstones  and  mud-puddles  for  you." 

So  I  rose  and  went  in  haste.  True,  I  had  no  reli- 
gious seriousness  whatever,  and  by  no  means  intended 
to  play  the  hypocrite,  but  as  for  resisting  Miss  Camp- 
bell just  at  this  juncture,  it  was  simply  an  impossi- 
bility. 

The  evangelist  announced,  as  soon  as  he  could  com- 
mand silence  to  be  heard,  that  he  did  not  intend  to  dis- 
miss the  congregation  until  every  sinner  in  the  house 
came  forward  for  prayer.  Tie  accordingly  started 
twenty-seven  brethren  to  ])raying  at  the  same  time, 
each  striving  to  pitch  his  petition  in  a  louder  key  than 
the  others  in  order  to  be  heard.  This,  in  turn,  put  in 
motion  about  fortv  sisters,  who  shouted  with  such  sue- 


100  Good  Gumption 

cess  that  Smoke  announced,  with  something  of  vehe- 
mence, that  the  New  Jerusalem  had  come  down  from 
on  high.  It  was  the  hvehest  time  I  ever  witnessed. 
Some  of  the  mourners  professed  two  and  three  times, 
while  Sister  Periodical  became  so  zealous  that  she  had 
to  be  fenced  off  in  a  corner  to  herself.  Spasmodic 
straddled  the  pulpit,  clapped  his  hands,  and  began  to 
sing : 

"O !  come,  and  won't  you  go  ?" 

Matters  were  now  ripe  for  Smoke  to  make  the  home 
stretch.  Seizing  a  chair  from  the  stand,  and  engag- 
ing the  services  of  two  husky  officials,  he  commanded 
them  to  go  into  the  highways  and  hedges  and  compel 
the  ungodly  to  come  in.  "This,"  said  he,  "is  the  gos- 
pel chair;  blessed  is  he  that  rideth  therein."  The  obe- 
dient porters  took  the  "gospel  chair"  and  brought  in 
it  penitents  as  fast  as  they  could.  Up  rode  Jack 
Cheesequakes,  in  a  broad  grin ;  then  came  Toothpick 
Wheazles,  alighting  from  the  chair  and  taking  a  seat 
by  me.  The  very  sight  of  him  brought  to  my  mind  the 
spelling  match,  and  prompted  the  unfair  inquiry, 
"Which  is  worse  in  a  fellow's  eye,  gnats  or  Smoke?" 

But  the  evening  was  growing  late,  and  the  "gospel 
chair,"  though  effective  in  its  way,  proved  too  slow  a 
process.  Therefore  the  preacher  provided  a  more  ex- 
peditious method.  Marshaling  a  force  of  six  muscular 
brethren  and  pointing  to  a  crude  bench  back  of  the  pul- 
pit, he  gravely  said,  "This  is  the  sacred  couch;  go, 
gather  up  all  the  ends  of  the  earth  and  fetch  them 
hither."  Off  they  went  to  the  rear  of  the  church,  and 
captured  six  at  a  time,  bringing  them  forward  and  un- 


Reviving  Shouting  Church  101 

loading  them  with  proper  celerity.  All  the  while  the 
saints  were  shouting,  the  penitents  professing,  and  the 
preacher  exhorting. 

Nearly  all  the  mourners  had  now  professed,  and 
were  inexpressibly  happy.  E\en  Toothpick  had  be- 
come a  disciple.  Only  a  few  "reprobates" — as  Smoke 
expressed  it — were  left.  Of  course,  all  the  children 
and  young  girls  had  "come  through"  without  a  jar; 
and  there  being  no  further  material  to  work  upon,  the 
faithful  herald  resolved  to  close  the  meeting,  stating 
that  there  had  been  a  hundred  and  forty-nine  precious 
souls  hopefully  converted.  Then,  opening  his  valise 
and  selling  a  number  of  his  little  books,  he  took  up  a 
collection  and  left  for  Popcorn  Valley,  the  next  field 
of  his  labors. 


/   DO    SOME  COURTING 


Chapter  IX. 


Toothpick  Wheazles  of  late  had  been  visiting 
Mrs.  Campbell's  with  a  frequency  that  had  become 
somewhat — well,  I  don't  mean  exactly  dangerous,  but 
perhaps  a  little  alarming  and  considerably  irritating; 
not  because  I  was  at  all  jealous,  but  because  I  looked 
upon  the  matter  from  the  viewpoint  of  a  philosopher, 
and  such  proceedings  naturally  made  me  feel  intoler- 
ablv  lonesome. 

I  discovered  also  that  my  general  health  was  queer- 
ly  affected.  Of  course  I  was  not  the  least  jealous,  only 
I  lost  flesh  at  the  rate  of  two  pennyweights  a  minute. 
My  whole  body  seemed  to  be  shrinking  by  some 
strange  mathematical  law,  yet  I  was  not  jealous. 
Most  people  would  have  been.  Nothing  about  my  eyes 
was  visible  but  the  iris ;  my  skin  was  not  only  dry  and 
parched,  but  green  and  yellow  in  streaks;  my  jaw- 
bones at  times  became  incapable  of  action ;  my  tongue 
stuck  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth;  my  pulse  beat  feebly 
about  once  every  two  hours;  my  cheeks  were  pallid; 
my- ears  flopped;  my  underlip  dropped;  and  my  back- 
bone ciu'ved  to  such  an  extent  that  as  I  walked  my 
fingers  dragged  tipon  the  ground.  At  least,  you  would 
have  imagined  this  about  to  happen  to  have  seen  me. 
The  world  seemed  to  be  a  mass  of  indigo  cinders  un- 

fl02) 


1  Do  Some  Courting  103 

dcr  my  feel,  bui  i  was  not  jealous.  1  was  indeed  a 
pitiable  phantom.  Sleep  fled  from  my  eyes  and  hope 
fled  from  my  heart;  love  l)led  and  ambition  died.  The 
village  undertaker  passed  me  and  smiled. 

What  a  depressing  effect  incongruities  lia\e  on  a 
well-balanced  mind!  Nothing  but  total  freedom  from 
jealousy,  and  the  exercise  of  a  resolute  philosophy, 
saved  me  from  complete  wreck  and  a  sjK'cdy  demise. 
j\ly  precarious  state  was  greatly  aggravated  by  the 
favorable  impression  my  rival  was  making  in  certain 
directions  at  Coon  Hollow,  by  reason  of  his  great  pos- 
sessions. Widow  Campbell  in  the  meantime  (and 
widows  with  i)retty  daughters  occasionally  will  fall 
heir  to  such  infirmities),  was  no  little  infatuated  ]jy 
\\'heazles's  saw-mills  and  big  talk;  and  it  became  nau- 
seously evident  to  me  that  my  opponent  was  growing 
daily  in  the  esteem  of  the  head  member  of  the  Camp- 
bell firm.     Still.  I  was  not  jealous. 

Suspense  is  painful;  and  the  next  thing  T  knew. 
Buce])halus  was  tied  up  at  Coon  Hollow,  and  his  mas- 
ter sat  in  \\'idow  Cami)be]rs  i)ar]or. 

"T  wish  to  see  ?^liss  Polytechnic  Campbell,"  I  had 
said,  meekly,  to  a  slim  maid  that  answered  my  knock. 

After  a  bit,  gentle  feet  came  tajvtapping  down  the 
steps,  warning  me  that  the  crisis  was  at  hand.  Miss 
Campbell  entered,  greeting  me  with  the  sweetest  smile 
I  had  ever  beheld.  T  rr)se  to  meet  her,  and  pressed  that 
fair,  precious,  darling,  little  hrmd  for  about  a  minute, 
iiUending  to  seat  myself  beside  her  on  the  divan  before 
relaxing  my  grasp.  P>ut  the  bewitching  girl  was  at- 
tired so  far  beyond  anything  T  had  anticipated,  that 
mv  heart  sank  within  me,  and  T  retreated  to  one  corner 


104  Good  Gumption 

of  the  room,  while  Polytechnic  occupied  another.  She 
seemed  to  swim  in  waves  of  "illusion"'^that's  what 
it's  called,  I  think— while  her  golden  ringlets,  sport- 
ing in  blue  and  scarlet  ribbons,  fell  luxuriantly  upon 
her  dimpled  shoulders.  ^Her  eyes  were  unusually  soft 
and  radiant,  and  her  cheeks  were  deeply  crimsoned  in 
testimony  of  her  evident  embarrassment.  I  never 
knew  how  much  I  adored  her  until  that  hour. 

But,  thought  I,  as  I  gazed  at  my  dingy  breeches, 
patched  shoes,  and  rusty  old  coat  (that  my  grandfa- 
ther had  been  married  in,  and  which  came  nearly 
down  to  my  ankles)  it  would  be  solemn  mockery  to  sit 
beside  such  a  creature,  much  mol"e  to  ask  her  hand. 
Shuddering  at  my  boldness,  ashamed  of  my  imperti- 
nence, realizing  my  danger,  and  beginning  to  choke, 
I  started  to  get  behind  the  screen ;  but  concluding  that 
it  was  wiser  to  make  an  attack  than  to  sufifer  myself 
to  be  treed,  I  resolved  to  try  my  fortune.  So  I  said 
nothing  for  fifteen  doleful  minutes. 

At  the  end  of  that  time,  moved  by  an  irresistible 
impulse,  I  marched  across  the  parlor  and  sat  down  as 
near  Polytechnic  as  possible.  For  another  solemn 
fifteen  minutes  I  was  as  silent  as  an  Egyptian  mum- 
my. Finally  I  summoned  sufficient  courage  to  cross 
my  legs,  but  spake  not.  T  fingered  at  my  coat-tail  in 
the  fond  hope  that  T  might  recall  the  speech  T  had  pre- 
pared, but  no  speech  came.  I  put  my  hands  in  my 
pockets,  cleared  my  throat,  took  out  my  handkerchief, 
and  wiped  my  nose;  but  my  speech  was  irretrievably 
gone. 

"Polytechnic,"  said  T,  at  length,  resolving  to  risk 
an  extempore  address,  "T  have  come  to — " 


I  Do  Some  Courting  105 

Ah  me !  I  was  just  getting  oft"  when  a  sudden,  quick 
tap  at  the  front  door  interrupted  the  flow  of  my  love 
and  language.  Widow  Campbell  was  in  the  kitchen, 
making  cake  for  Sunday,  so  1  thought  it  devolved 
upon  me  to  answer  the  knock.  I  plunged  fiercely  to- 
ward the  door,  and  lo,  and  behold !  it  was  Toothpick 
W'heazles. 

"I  wish  to  see  Miss  Polytechnic  Campbell  privately 
a  few  moments,"  said  he,  grumly. 

"T  have  already,"  said  I.  with  a  sweet  smile,  "en- 
gaged jMiss  Campbell's  company  and  the  parlor  for  a 
fortnight.  If  you  desire  to  see  the  widow,  you  can 
walk  'round  to  the  kitchen  and  amuse  yourself  su- 
perintending pots  and  kindling  fires  with  lumber  from 
your  saw-mills." 

Pale  with  rage,  the  youth  departed,  with  vengeance 
in  liis  heart.  Poor  fellow!  Nemesis  must  have  her 
way,  and  it  was  his  turn  to  pine. 

Again  I  sat  beside  that  seraphic  form,  and  at- 
tempted to  tell  the  tale  of  my  love. 

"Sweetest  sweetness,"  whispered  I,  with  the  soft- 
ness of  a  frosted  persimmon,  "I  have  come  to — " 

Here  the  slim  maid  approached  the  door  with  glass- 
es of  water,  but  seeing  the  menacing  shake  of  my  fist, 
she  darted  through  the  passage,  falling  and  breaking 
the  glasses  with  a  tremendous  squall  and  crash.  This 
catastrophe,  of  course,  brought  Mrs.  Campbell  into 
the  parlor  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  And  there  I 
sat  beside  Polytechnic,  my  face  as  red  as  a  beet  and 
my  heart  throbbing  like  a  steam  engine,  while  the  poor, 
patient  girl — girls  are  generally  patient  when  they  are 
about  to  be  courted — bore  it  with  fortitude. 


106  Good  Gumption 

When  solitude  and  silence  had  calmed  again  my 
troubled  sea,  I  launched  my  bark  on  placid  waters  and 
hoisted  my  canvas  to  catch  the  zephyrs  of  propitious 
love.  Gazing  dreamily  into  the  heavenly  azure  of 
Polytechnic's  eyes,  inhaling  the  exhilarating  odors  of 
acacia,  Jockey  Club  and  violets  that  floated  on  the  air 
as  she  shook  her  handkerchief  carelessly,  I  took  up  the 
burden  of  my  mission. 

"Sweetest  sugar,"  I  said,  with  dripping  softness, 
"I  have  come  to — " 

Unspeakable  horrors!  a  rap  like  a  peal  of  thunder 
annoimced  a  visitor  at  the  front  door.  This  time  it 
was  Hydrogen  Mush,  who  had  come  in  haste  to  notify 
Mrs.  Campbell  that  her  pigs  were  in  his  turnip  patch. 
Judging  that  a  pig  excitement  just  at  that  juncture 
would  prove  a  misfortune  beyond  repair,  I  insisted  on 
the  'Squire  coming  in,  that  there  was  about  to  be  a  fu- 
neral, and  he  would  be  needed  as  a  pallbearer.  Hydro- 
gen retreated,  as  any  man  would  do  attired  in  his  shirt- 
sleeves in  time  of  obsequies,  and,  I  presume,  attended 
to  the  pigs  alone. 

A  fourth  time  I  settled  down  to  the  hazardous  task 
of  courting.  My  affections  again  began  to  glow  like 
a  spark  from  Vesuvius,  while  my  tongue  was  prepar- 
ing to  utter  unutterable  things.  Crimson  beauty 
sported  on  Polytechnic's  cheeks,  celestial  radiance 
broke  from  her  eyes  as  from  a  cataract  of  suns,  and 
angelic  sweetness  robed  her  as  with  a  garment. 

"Celestial  peach,"  I  asseverated,  in  low  accents,  "I 
have  come  to — " 

Ah!  fortune  seemed  to  have  sprung  a  leak:  for  a 
svndicate  of  female  voices  in  the  kitchen  screamed^ 


CO 

y 


y. 


H 
W 


(107) 


108  Good  Gumption 

"Fire!  fire!"  which  so  startled  my  shattered  nerves 
that  I  leaped  from  the  divan  and  butted  my  head 
against  the  low  ceiling  with  disastrous  effect.  Finally, 
however,  rallying  from  my  bewilderment,  I  rushed 
headlong  into  the  culinary  department,  to  behold  a 
prostrate  stove-pipe  unjointed,  and  the  air  filled  with 
smoke  and  cinders.  The  pipe  was  soon  righted,  and 
matters  were  once  more  quiet.  Surely  the  poet  had 
me  in  his  mind's  eye  when  he  wrote  that  true  but  sick- 
ening line : 

The  course  of  true  love  never  did  run  smooth. 

I  think  this  misfortune  is  due  mainly  to  female 
maidens.  But  any  way,  I  sat  me  again  on  that  same 
divan,  by  the  side  of  that  same  bewitching  girl.  Again 
the  thoughts  came,  and  the  thought  went,  and  the  love 
burned. 

"Distilled  honey,"  whispered  T,  dreamily,  'T  have 
come  to  — " 

"Ouch!"  I  cried,  and  Polytechnic  jumped.  An  un- 
civilized wasp  had,  with  malice  aforethought,  invaded 
my  trousers,  and  was  engaged  in  a  most  telling  war- 
fare on  my  leg.  I  yelped ;  I  bent  double ;  I  squeezed 
my  limb  where  the  battle  was  raging  most  keenly, 
trying  in  vain  to  crush  my  foe,  but  the  barbarian,  like 
a  certain  noted  ghost,  would  not  down.  Then  I  made 
a  stupendous  effort  to  sit  on  him,  but  sat  on  his  sting — 
and  felt  hurt. 

By  this  time  Polytechnic  had  come  bravely  to  my 
assistance.  Armed  with  a  broomstick,  she  stood  over 
me  striking  the  place  where  T  indicated  the  presence 


I  Do  Some  Courting  109 

of  the  wasp,  but  this  heroic  treatment  faihng,  she 
seized  the  tongs  from  the  hearth,  and — pinched  my 
already  sore  liesh  in  a  last  attempt  to  stay  the  fearful 
havoc  the  insect  was  making.  1  groaned  under  the 
hand  1  loved.  At  length,  however,  she  secured  the 
wasp  in  the  tongs,  and  thus  removed  the  last  obstacle 
from  the  rough  path  of  cotn-tshij).  It  seemed  for  a 
while  that  I  wotild  never  rally,  and  that  the  avowal  of 
my  affection  would  hnve  to  be  indefinitely  postponed. 
I  sat  beside  her.  The  accidents  appeared  to  be  over; 
there  was  peace. 

My  recent  experiences  had  exhausted  me  so  I  fell 
asleep.  I  awoke.  She  was  gone.  I  ran  to  the  door 
and  jerked  the  bell.    The  servant  came. 

"I  want  to  see  Miss  Campbell,"  said  1. 

"She'll  come  as  soon  as  she  gets  through  latighing," 
said  she.    "Take  a  seat  in  the  parlor." 

Polytechnic  came.     I  sat  beside  her. 

"Oozing  syrup,"  said  I,  "I  have  come  to  [no  calami- 
ty this  time]  say  I  love  you."  Taking  her  snowy  hand 
in  mine,  I  asked,  "\\"ould  yoti  be  sorry  if  I  were 
dead  ?" 

Slic  answered  by  tears  that  began  to  well  in  her 
dee])  bkie  eyes. 

"Incarnate  perfection,"  I  said,  mellifluously.  "vou 
are  the  light  of  my  life,  the  joy  of  my  soul,  the  mel- 
lowest nectarine  in  the  garden  of  my  affections,  and 
the  brightest  star  in  the  sky  of  my  hopes.  I  have  come 
to  ask  you  to  be  my  wife.  T  possess  no  saw-mills,  but 
T  do  own  a  family  tree.  I  am  descended  from  King 
Alfred  of  England,  although  my  father  is  a  farmer, 
poor  and  plain.    I  own  nothing  but  a  little  mule  and  a 


110  Good  Gumption 

big  heart,  and  it  is  my  grief  that  i  have  not  the  gold 
of  Ophir  and  the  cedars  of  Lebanon  to  lay  at  your  feet. 
It  would  be  my  supreme  joy  to  consecrate  myself  and 
mule  to  }'our  service,  and  to  write  our  names  together 
on  the  sands  of  Possum  Creek.  Cherubic  duck,  can 
you  smile  on  a  worm?  Can  you  look  with  compassion 
on  dust  and  ashes  ?  Will  you  suffer  a  dog  to  walk  in 
the  light  of  your  countenance  and  die  in  the  shadow 
of  your  smile?" 

"Red,"  ejaculated  the  bewitching,  blushing  girl, 
"this  is  so  sudden.  I  cannot  return  a  positive  answer 
until  I  speak  with  mother.  You  will  have  to  ask  ma. 
Red." 

"Goodness  gracious!"  cried  I,  in  an  agony  of  aston- 
ishment ;  but  oft'  the  darling  creature  ran. 

A  variety  of  emotions  flitted  through  my  disordered 
soul  as  I  awaited  the  dread  approach  of  Mrs.  Camp- 
bell. T  am  sure  I  had  found  difficulty  enough  in  dis- 
closing my  heart  to  the  daughter,  but  to  go  over  the 
matter  to  the  mother  in  cold  blood,  without  the  inspi- 
ration of  loving  eyes  and  the  pressure  of  soft  hands, 
w^as  an  outrage  upon  all  the  metaphysics  of  my  na- 
ture. After  some  minutes — though  it  seemed  to  me  to 
be  only  seconds — Mrs.  Campbell  entered,  with  a  plate 
of  cakes,  ten  of  which  T  demolished  in  an  attempt  to 
collect  my  thoughts.  There  was  just  one  solitary  little 
cake  left  when  Airs.  Campbell  opened  fire  with  her 
batteries  upon  me. 

*'Mr.  Beans,"  she  said,  in  a  calm,  motherly,  lie-not- 
to-me-sir  sort  of  voice ;  "my  daughter  informs  me  that 
you  have  requested  her  hand  in  marriage.  Now,  as 
Polytechnic's  mother,  it  is  my  privilege  and  duty  to 


I  Do  Some  Courting  111 

inquire  as  to  your  ability  to  maintain  a  wife,  and  the 
amount  of  your  income.  These  matters  are  very  im- 
portant in  contractinjT^  marriage,  and  hence  I  ask  can- 
didly, sir.  are  you  able  to  suj^port  a  family?" 

"Ma — am?"  gasped  1.  realizing  for  the  first  time 
the  solemnity  of  courting  a  girl.  But  oddly  enough 
Fortune  came  to  my  aid  and  Mrs.  Campbell,  being  a 
little  deaf,  understood  me  to  answer  in  the  affirmative. 
But  luck  was  always  mine. 

*'I  am  pleased,"  she  continued,  "to  learn  }ou  have 
some  means,  Mr.  Beans,  since  a  poor  man  could  not 
possibly  meet  the  exigencies  of  the  case.  I  am  getting 
old,  as  you  see,  and  several  of  my  daughters  never  will 
marry,  so  of  course,  we  shall  expect  to  live  with  Poly- 
technic." 

For  the  space  of  two  minutes  T  spoke  not.  T  thought 
of  my  poor  little  mule ;  I  thought  of  the  barren  hills  at 
Shakerag ;  I  thought  of  a  robust  widow  and  five  husky, 
don't-need-any-medicine-to-day-thank-you  girls  to  be 
fed  by  the  strength  of  my  arm ;  and — I  thought — for 
once  in  my  life — seriously  of  saw-mills. 

"Madam."  mumbled  I,  at  length,  the  prospect  rising 
gloomily  before  me ;  "  'sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the 
evil  thereof.'  " 

Mrs.  Camp1)ell.  mistaking  the  force  of  my  borrowed 
words,  and  judging  mc  to  be  exceeding  pious  because 
of  my  ready  use  of  Scripture,  left  the  parlor  elated  at 
the  idea  of  being  elevated  to  the  position  of  mother- 
in-law. 

"Mr.  Beans,"  she  said  as  she  retired,  "Polytech- 
nic has  my  full  consent  to  act  as  her  heart  dictates 
in  this  matter.    And  I  assure  you  I  know  of  no  young 


112  Good  Gumption 

gentleman  into  whose  hands  I  would  rather  trust  my 
daughter  than  you." 

I  was  just  about,  in  my  fit  of  exultation,  to  start  up 
a  psalm,  when  again  the  happy,  blushing  girl  sat  by 
my  side. 

"Polytechnic,"  said  I,  in  wooing  accents,  "your 
mother  said  she  would  trust  you  in  my  hands ;  and  as 
you  are  an  obedient  child,  you  must  do  her  will." 

And  into  my  hands  she  came.  Verily,  nothing  is 
more  handy  than  a  lovesick  girl. 

"Tell  me.  Polytechnic,"  said  I,  gently  drawing  her 
closer  to  my  side,  "do  you  love  me,  'ittle  boo'f ul  dove  ?" 

"Oh !  Heredity,  you  know  I  do,"  whispered  the  in- 
nocent, artless  girl,  burying  her  face  in  my  necktie. 

This  was  too  much  for  me.  I  clapped  my  hands ;  T 
squealed;  T  cried;  I  laughed;  I  hugged  the  center- 
table;  I  straddled  the  piano-stool  and  turned  round; 
and  not  knowing  what  to  do  next,  I  sealed  the  engage- 
ment with  the  lover's  seal,  and  hastened  to  Bucepha- 
lus. The  night  had  grown  late  when  life's  problem 
at  last  was  solved.  Engaged !  Whoop !  Polytechnic 
loved  me !  Toothpick  was  beaten !  Glory !  I  got  hap- 
pier and  happier.  How  large  I  was !  How  small  all 
others ! 

Ecstasies  kept  accumulating.  I  thought  I  would 
burst.  T  tied  the  halter  around  my  waist  to  prevent, 
an  explosion.  I  struck  spurs  to  my  animal,  and  in  a 
moment  reached  the  outer  gate.  Leaping  from  my 
saddle  upon  the  gatepost,  I  flapped  my  arms  and 
crowed.  This  started  all  the  gobblers  and  roosters  in 
the  neighborhood  to  gobbling  and  crowing.  "Fellow- 
partners  of  my  joy,  thank  you!"  said  I.    I  remounted 


I  Do  Some  Courting  113 

my  mule ;  and  as  I  looked  toward  the  heavens  above,  I 
thought  the  stars  were  never  so  fair,  and  went  home 
singing: 

"There's  nothing-  half  so  sweet  in  life 
As  love's  young  dream." 

And  there  isn't. 
8 


AT  SHEEPSKIN  COLLEGE 


Chapter  X. 

The  melancholy  days  had  come,  the  saddest  of  the  year, 

Of  scanning  odes  and  proving  sums  so  long  and  dark  and  queer. 

My  college  career  was  at  hand.  It  was  a  sad  strain 
upon  my  ripening  affections  to  leave  for  six  or  eight 
long  months  the  beautiful  Polytechnic.  But  my  father 
comforted  me  by  the  assurance  that,  if  I  studied  hard, 
I  would  win  about  forty  prizes  and  secure  a  harvest 
of  sheepskins,  wdiich  would  bring  me  into  such  re- 
nown that  I  speedily  could  procure  such  a  situation  as 
would  enable  me  to  support  a  wife  handsomely.  Un- 
der the  influence  of  such  a  pleasing  possibility,  I  con- 
sented to  forego  all  the  joys  of  my  boyhood  and  sol- 
emnly consecrate  myself  to  learning. 

I  arrived  at  Sheepskin  College  without  event,  re- 
ported myself  to  the  president,  Doctor  Jonathan  Cy- 
clops, and  set  to  work  grubbing  among  Greek,  Latin, 
and  mathematical  roots — and  occasionally,  with  prop- 
er company,  among  a  more  interesting  class  of  roots, 
known  in  college  and  common  phraseology  as  sweet 
potatoes.  This  dif^cult  branch  of  the  curriculum  was 
always  prosecuted  in  the  night,  and  conducted  by  a 
professor  elected  by  the  students.  Very  often  I  filled 
the  chair — or  rather  the  basket — myself.  Under  or- 
dinary circumstances,  such  procedure  justly  might  be 
(114) 


At  Sheepskin  College  115 

denominated  theft,  but  at  Sheepskin  College  it  could 
receive  no  harder  name  than  necessary  spoliation. 
This  statement  A\ill  l)e  iustificMl  by  reference  to  the  fol- 
lowing recipe,  found  tacked  inside  the  kitchen  door: 

Soup  a  la  ^Mode. 
One  barrel  tlishwater,  three  cakes  tallow,  two  ox  ribs,  iiinr- 
teen  grains  rice,  three  turnips,  four  Irish  potatoes,  one  dozen 
pods  bull  pepper,  one  bag  sage,  half  peck  salt,  one  bushel 
onions,  couple  well-used  dish  rags,  three  deceased  flies.  Cook 
t\vo  days,  and  serve  at  temperature  39°  F.  with  pewter  spoons. 

But  there  is  something  worse  than  soup  for  a  school- 
boy— for  instance,  a  professor's  daughter  just  bloom- 
ing into  innocent  pertness.  Ti  may  seem  a  little  odd 
that  in  treating  of  Sheepskin  College  T  should  discuss 
a  professor's  daughter,  but.  it  must  be  remembered 
that  I  am  not  acting  the  part  of  a  novelist,  nor  writing 
as  a  philosopher,  but  sim])ly  chronicling  such  facts  as 
entered  into  my  own  experience  or  especially  attracted 
my  attention.  One  morning-  a  servant  tapped  at  my 
dormitory  with  a  note,  which  read  as  follows : 

Dr.   Cyclops   will   be  pleased   to  have   ^Mr.   Beans 
take  tea  with  him  this  evening  at  nine  o'clock. 

Tea!  why,  T  didn't  drink  tea;  and  T  never  went  to 
tea  anywhere  in  my  life.  T  did  not  know  what  it  was 
to  "take  tea,"  but  supposed  it  meant  a  sort  of  party, 
with  oceans  of  that  fluid.  So  I  responded  with  becom- 
ing gravity :  • 

Dr.  Cyclops  shall  have  the  pleasure  he  anticipates; 
and  .Mr.  Beans  will  dine  with  him  at  tea. 

Just  how  T  happened  to  receive  such  signal  honor  is 
explained  by  an  error  that  had  crept  into  the  papers. 
My  grandmother  died  and  left  me  v$7.50,  which  the 


116  Good  Gumption 

printer  made  $75,000.  So,  it  being  heralded  abroad 
that  I  had  fallen  heir  to  a  fortune,  I  became  a  person 
of  some  note,  even  in  literary  circles.  This  erroneous 
impression  unfortunately  was  deepened  by  the  fact 
that  I  kept  Bucephalus  at  college  to  ride  and  drive  on 
holidays,  making  him  pay  his  board  by  hiring  him  out 
at  other  times.  But  the  display  of  seeming  wealth  was 
wholly  unintentional.  The  president.  Dr.  Cyclops,  was 
poor ;  his  daughter  was  pretty ;  I  had  a  supposed  for- 
tune ;  hence  came  the  invitation. 

Imagine  a  poor,  unlettered  boy  from  Shakerag  tak- 
ing tea  with  the  president  of  a  great  college !  A  man 
who  had  a  dictionary  on  his  tongue,  a  couple  of  ency- 
clopaedias in  his  head,  and  who  could  repeat  poetry  by 
the  hour,  besides  many  other  things  at  the  bare  men- 
tion of  which  I  almost  went  into  spasms !  But  I  found 
myself,  however,  just  as  the  college  clock  struck -three, 
climbing  the  Doctor's  front  steps. 

I  saw,  as  I  drew  up  opposite  the  door,  a  polished 
bronze  knob  over  which  was  printed,  "Pull.''  I  pulled. 
Something  seemed  to  give  way;  wires  rattled,  things 
jingled,  echoes  seemed  to  be  wrestling  together  in  the 
basement.  I  never  had  such  an  experience  before.  I 
imagined  T  had  pulled  the  spigot  out  of  a  volcano  and 
had  brought  speedy  ruin  on  the  professor's  house. 
Like  a  flash  of  lightning  I  leaped  over  the  front  gate 
and  was  making  such  good  running  time  that  my  coat- 
tail  changed  the  perpendicular  for  the  horizontal  di- 
rection, when  a  soft  feminine  voice  called  out,  "We're 
at  home,  Mr.  Beans;  come  in." 

I  returned  in  fear  and  trembling,  shook  hands  with 
Finikie,  the  president's  daughter,  a  handsome  girl  of 


■il.i'r     J 


o 

> 


o 

D 
o 


c 


Q 
< 


O 
< 


(117) 


118  Good  Gumption 

just  sweet  sixteen,  and  inquired  mildly  if  any  damage 
had  been  done,  and  what  would  be  the  cost  of  repairs. 
Finikie  assured  me  no  harm  had  befallen ;  it  was  just 
the  way  the  door-bell  had  of  doing ;  and  after  she  had 
showed  me  the  whole  arrangement,  my  alarm  was  as- 
suaged. There  were  no  door-bells  where  I  came  from, 
like  that. 

Finikie  expressed  some  surprise  at  my  coming  so 
early  in  the  evening,  apologizing  for  the  absence  of 
flowers  in  the  vases.  I  comforted  her  by  saying  one 
pink  was  sufficient  for  a  parlor.  She  received  the  com- 
pliment gracefully,  and  glancing  at  the  clock,  inquired 
with  some  embarrassment:  "Mr.  Beans,  you  said  in 
your  note  of  acceptance  that  you  would  dine  with  us 
at  tea  and  we  thought  perhaps  you  intended  to  give  us 
the  pleasure  of  your  company  both  at  dinner  and  at 
tea.    Have  you  been  to  dinner  ?" 

*'0h!  Miss  Finikie,"  said  I,  clearing  my  throat  in 
order  to  give  my  collapsed  brain  time  to  right  itself, 
never  having  thought  that  ''dine"  meant  anything  else 
than  eat.  "You  are  so  refined,  immaterial,  spiritual, 
that  you  could  not  detect  that  half-fledged  boji  inof 
which  coupled  dinner  and  tea,  intimating  the  double 
enjoyment  I  anticipated." 

Finikie  confessed  her  dullness,  and,  after  asking 
pardon,  suggested  that  it  was  a  beautiful  evening  for 
a  drive  to  the  college  park.  Of  course,  Bucephalus 
was  ordered  at  once  and  soon  stood  at  the  Doctor's 
gate  awaiting  his  precious  cargo. 

With  a  gay  laugh  and  a  flourish  of  ribbons,  Finikie 
leaped  into  the  buggy,  seized  the  reins,  and  became 
undisputed  mistress  of  ceremonies.     The  lane  echoed 


At  Sheepskin  College  119 

with  peals  of  merriment  and  hilariotis  shouting,  while 
Finikie  jerked  and  lashed  Bucephalus.  I  am  sure  1 
said  nothing  funny,  and  yet  Finikie  roared  and 
screamed;  and  the  more  silent  I  grew,  the  more  wildly 
hysterical  Finikie  became.  Poor  creature,  like  a  tor- 
rent rushing  on,  she  continued  to  raise  her  voice  to 
higher  and  yet  higher  notes,  finally  shrieking  at  such 
a  lofty  and  dangerous  height  that  I  feared  some  se- 
rious accident  would  befall  her  lungs.  Bucephalus, 
unused  to  such  unearthly  sounds,  ventured  soberly  to 
look  back  to  investigate  the  matter;  and,  discovering 
Finikie's  tangled  hair,  beribboned  head,  and  brow 
shrouded  in  bangs,  took  fright,  depositing  the  presi- 
dent's daughter  in  a  brier-patch  and  lodging  me  on  a 
fence-rail  to  witness  his  speed  through  an  adjoining 
field.    But  who  could  blame  the  mule  ? 

After  this  came  frequent  invitations  to  the  presi- 
dent's house ;  daily  came  bouquets  from  the  president's 
daughter.  In  accepting  both  invitations  and  bouquets, 
I  had  no  idea  of  encouraging  false  hopes,  nor  any  de- 
sign of  becoming  an  actor  in  a  ridiculous  farce.  But 
Finikie  fell  in  love  with  me,  without  my  knowledge  or 
consent,  and  misinterpreted  my  social  visits  as  sure- 
enough  courtship.  T  was  simply  homesick  and  love- 
sick, and  glad  of  any  opportunity  to  practice  nonsense 
with  a  rattling  girl  whom  I  knew  already  to  be  en- 
gaged. 

\\'hen.  however,  I  saw  a  certain  fellow  moping 
about  college  pale  and  ghostly,  I  might  have  divined, 
had  I  been  of  a  suspicious  temperament,  that  the  gos- 
ling had  felt  the  force  of  a  feminine  foot.  But  a  blind 
man  sees  nothing;  hence,  I  did  not  see  the  potent  af- 


120  Good  Gumption 

finity  between  a  reputed  $75,000  man  and  an  $1,1 00 
girl.  Before  that  unhappy  rag  of  a  paper  blundered 
into  the  grotesque  mistake  respecting  my  grandmoth- 
er's bequest,  the  president  knew  me  only  at  a  distance ; 
now  he  invited  me  to  his  home.  Finikie  had  turned  up 
her  nose  at  me  a  time  or  two,  and  refused  to  go  with 
me  to  a  funeral ;  but  now  she  smiled  on  me  across  the 
cemetery,  and  proposed  on  one  occasion  to  go  with  me 
to  a  hanging.  This  wondrous  metamorphosis  in  be- 
havior I  thought,  at  the  time,  was  due  to  the  family 
having  gotten  religion,  or  to  the  publication  in  the 
"Literary  Comet,"  the  college  paper,  of  the  following 
poem  on  the  death  of  old  Dix,  the  college  sexton.  In- 
cidentally the  poem  rounded  up  thirteen  prizes  for  me 
at  Commencement : 

'       IN  MEMORIAM. 
Dirge. 

7  &7, 
Earth  and  heaven ; 

9&  I, 
It's  just  begun  ; 

2  &  10, 

Then  comes  the  end; 

6  &  4. 

Forever  more 

Across  the  Styx 

Is  fled  old  Dix. 

Requiem. 

Now  students  all,  with  one  accord, 

Lament  for  poor  old  Dix  ; 

Consign  his  ashes  to  the  sward, 

And  row  him  o'er  the  Styx. 

I  found  later,  however,  that  their  marvelous  cour- 
tesies were  due  to  the  impression  that  I  was  the  lucky 


At  Sheepskin  College  121 

heir  to  a  bit  of  lucre.     Oh!  no  wonder  the  poet,  in  the 
chniax  of  his  loftiest  apostrophe,  exclaimed, 

Oh !  thou  potent  Dollar. 
Thou  irresistible  Tin  I 

So  a  roseate  scheme  was  laid  by  the  Cyclopses  for 
my  speedy  marriage  with  Finikie,  of  which  1  was  kei)t 
in  profotmd  ignorance.  1  loved  Polytechnic  Camp- 
bell, and  it  seemed  a  compotmd,  double-distilled  im- 
pertinence for  anybody  to  suspect  otherwise;  yet  my 
country  raising  forbade  my  viewing  events  and  signs 
with  any  other  than  an  unsophisticated  eye.  The  cake, 
ice  cream,  and  flowers  that  made  their  way  to  my  study 
daily,  and  often  semi-daily,  I  interpreted  as  neighbor- 
ly acts  and  tokens  of  friendship ;  yet  I  never  dreamed 
of  addressing  love  to  Miss  Cyclops,  nor  did  I  opine 
that  Finikie's  afTections  were  awakened  toward  me. 

Even  had  not  my  devotions  already  been  disposed 
of,  it  would  have  appeared  sinftil  for  a  poor,  untu- 
tored, backwoods  lad  to  aspire  to  nuptial  relations  with 
the  cultured  and  aristocratic  daughter  of  a  college 
president.  Tn  unfeigned  gratitude  to  this  kind  family, 
I  expressed  freely  my  sense  of  appreciation,  assevera- 
ting with  considerable  emotion  that  T  loved  Dr.  Cy- 
clops, his  wife,  and  daughter,  and  that  I  looked  upon 
the  Doctor  as  a  father,  and  Mrs.  Cyclops  as  a  mother. 
Most  unhappily,  Finikie  seized  upon  this  avowal  as  a 
declaration  of  love,  and  so  reported  to  her  parents, 
giving  rise  to  a  visitation  from  President  Cyclops. 

It  was  four  o'clock,  as  I  sat  in  my  study  giving  the 
finishing  touch  to  the  peroration  of  a  twenty-seven 
page  (foolscap)  letter  to  Polytechnic,  when  a  stately 
knock  at  the  door  announced  the  venerable  Doctor. 


122  Good  Gumption 

"Why,  Doctor,"  said  I,  in  some  surprise,  "is  it  you? 
Glad  to  see  you,  sir!  Have  a  seat,"  enjoined  I,  point- 
ing to  a  three-legged  stool,  while  I  myself  located  on 
the  pictured  end  of  a  soap-box. 

"What  have  you  been  doing,  my  l3oy?"  familiarly 
inquired  my  distinguished  visitor. 

"Oh!  nothing;  just  closing  up  a  small  volume  on 
love,"  answered  I,  with  a  candid  smile. 

"Ho!  yi!"  exclaimed  my  honored  guest.  "You  vo- 
taries of  Cupid  are  all  alike ;  you  write  as  the  amorous 
muse  dictates." 

"Yes,  Doctor;  there's  an  a-musing  element  in  us 
all,"  replied  I,  with  an  attempt  at  facetiousness. 

"True,  Heredity;  and  my  present  a-muse-ment 
proves  your  proposition.  Ahem — this  bit  of  pleasant- 
ry introduces  the  object  of  my  visit.  My  daughter  in- 
forms me  that  you  have  made  a  declaration  of  love  to 
her,  and  at  the  start  I  wish  to  know  whether  the  mat- 
ter is  fully  understood  by  both  parties." 

"Certainly,  Doctor ;  I  love  your  daughter,  yourself, 
and  wife.  You  have  all  been  so  kind  to  me  that  I  would 
be  the  veriest  ingrate,  if  I  loved  you  not.  I  have  fre- 
quently so  expressed  myself  to  my  classmates." 

"It  is  then  your  full  intention  to  marry,  if  I  under- 
stand you  aright?" 

"Most  assuredly,  Doctor ;  otherwise  I  would  not  be 
engaged,"  said  I,  with  a  large  degree  of  enthusiasm, 
as  I  thought  of  the  subangel  I  had  left  behind. 

"It  is  w^ll,  my  boy;  I'm  glad  you  consider  it  an  en- 
gagement. I  rejoice  greatly.  When  do  you  expect 
to  marry,  Heredity?" 

"\\^henever  her  mother  is  willing."  T  replied,  color- 


At  Sheepskin  (.ollege  123 

ing-  a  bit,  "and  1  can  get  financial  matters  in  shape,  1 
suppose." 

"I'm  sure,  iieredity,  her  mother  will  not  oijject  to 
any  time  you  propose,  nor  will  her  father,"  said  the 
president,  with  a  smile,  patting  me  on  the  shoulder. 

''She  has  no  father."  exclaimed  1.  in  astonishment. 

The  Doctor  stretched  his  eyes,  wiped  his  eye-glasses, 
and,  suddenly  imagining  he  saw  into  the  bottom  of 
things,  observed:  "I  see,  you  scam]);  you  have  appro- 
priated me  wholly  to  yourself.  Rut  I'll  be  father  to 
both  of  you,  anyway." 

"Oh!  thank  you,  uion  pcrc,"  I  said,  tuilizing  a  Httle 
French  I  had  learned  the  day  before,  whereupon  the 
good  Doctor  chuckled  a  cheerful  farewell  to  me. 

As  I  sat  by  my  opened  window^  one  sttltry  night  not 
long  afterwards,  pondering  where  I  could  borrow 
thirty-five  cents  to  pay  my  laundress,  whose  tender 
pleas  awakened  my  sympathies,  I  heard  animated 
voices  on  the  Cyclops  front  porch,  discussing  a  matter 
that  seemed  to  be  of  general  interest  to  the  family. 

"He's  a  grand  catch."  said  the  president.  "It's  a 
brilliant  affair  indeed !" 

Mrs.  Cvci.ops  :  Yes ;  but  he's  so  very  odd,  so  gro- 
tesqtiely  eccentric,  you  know. 

Dr.  Cyclops:  But  so  rich,  my  dear. 

Mrs.  Cyclops  (resignedly)  :  Truly,  the  only  re- 
deeming feattu-e ;  yet,  I  suppose,  that  will  compensate. 

Dr.  Cyclops:  Even  so,  dear;  splendid  catch.  T  say. 

Mrs.  Cyclops:  And  yet,  what  a  pity  he  is  so  very 
queer.  Just  think,  darling,  of  our  polished  Finikie, 
the  belle  of  the  college,  and  who  wottld  be  a  belle  any- 
where, wedding  a  country  boor  ! 


124  Good  Gumption 

Dr.  Cyclops  {insinuatingly) :  But — $75,000,  wifie! 

Mrs.  Cyclops:  Of  course,  dear,  circumstances  do 
alter  cases;  and  $75,000,  which  is  a  prize  inestimable 
to  a  poor  professor's  daughter,  will  change  a  country 
prig  into  a  rustic  prince.  I  must  confess,  Doctor,  I 
am  simply  charmed  at  Finikie's  good  fortune. 

FiNiKiE  {overhearing  the  conversation  and  rush- 
ing on  the  porch) :  ^^'hy,  ma,  all  the  students  consider 
him  a  superlj  wit,  and  even  the  faculty  admit  that  he 
is  the  poetic  genius  of  college. 

Dr.  Cyclops:  Yes;  and  the  $75,000,  you  know. 

Mrs.  Cyclops  :  Ah !  yes. 

•Dr.  Cyclops  :  By  the  way,  little  wifie,  do  you  know 
that  I  have  concocted  a  small  scheme  ? 

Mrs.  Cyclops  {with  alarm)  :  Oh!  dear.  You  have 
concocted  so  many  schemes  that  proved  valuable  only 
for  the  genius  displayed  in  their  concoction,  that  I 
have  despaired  of  valuable  results.  You  know,  Doc- 
tor, you  thought  your  novel  would  bring  you  a  for- 
tune, but  somehow  publishers  didn't  take  to  it.  Then 
you  invented  a  phonetic  alphabet,  which  you  fancied 
princes  and  kings  would  adopt  throughout  the  world, 
but  the  expense  of  getting  it  out  nearly  ruined  us. 

Dr.  Cyclops  :  But  I've  hit  rock  bottom  now ;  some- 
thing tangible,  solid,  sure. 

Mrs.  Cyclops  (Jier  face  brightening  up)  :  \\'hat 
now,  Mr.  Cyclops? 

Dr.  Cyclops  (adjusting  his  spectacles  and  looking 
tozvard  the  sky) :  \Miy,  we'll  all  go  over  to  Europe 
next  summer,  as  a  grand  bridal  party.  Just  think  of 
it !  Our  lonsf-cherished  dreams  realized  at  last !  ^^''e'll 
spend  the  months  among  Mediterranean  zephyrs,  on 


At  Sheepskin  College  125 

Alpine  hcighis,  by  the  springs  of  Baden-Baden ;  and 
pass  jocund  hours  in  the  great  capitals  of  Europe. 

jMrs.  Cyclops  ( practically )  :  But  what  about  the 
money  ? 

Dr.  Cyclops:  Well,  by  the  by.  f  forgot  to  say  we 
have  $75,000  backing  us.  You  see,  to  get  into  such  a 
family  as  the  Cyclopses  will  cost  a  youngster  some- 
thing. A  man  who  wouldn't  exchange  a  bit  of  sordid 
gold  for  such  social  standing  would  be  a  sorry  dog 
Indeed.  The  hand  of  Finikie  Cyclops  is  worth  mil- 
lions! Did  I  say  millions?  I  meant  billions!  Of 
course,  he'll  have  to  lay  down  a  round  ten  thousand 
for  our  outfit,  fare,  pocket  money,  and  that  sort  of 
thing.  Yes,  dear ;  I  expect  to  bring  back  five  hundred 
dollars'  worth  of  novelties,  to  say  nothing  of  a  span  of 
Aral)ian  horses  and  a  Paris  barouche.  How  does  it 
strike  you  now,  dumpling? 

Mrs.  Cyclops  { completely  zcoji)  :  There's  celestial 
grandeur  about  it.  Perfectly  superb!  How  I'll  haunt 
Parisian  jewelry  stores,  and  spend  tireless  hours  at  the 
shops !  By  the  way,  Dr.  Cyclops,  it  would  be  a  choice 
opportunity  for  you  to  get  a  new  wig. 

Dr.  Cyclops  seemed  suddenly  to  remember  that  he 
had  important  business  awaiting  him,  and  retired  with 
a  sigfh.  Thus  closed  a  conversation  which  T  heard 
with  no  special  interest  other  than  that  T  was  glad  to 
know  that  the  president  had  met  with  some  good  luck 
somewhere.  To  this  matter  T  shall  have  occasion  to 
revert  in  the  next  chapter. 


A      S  7  S  ,  0  o  o     FARCE 


Chapter  XL 

I  WAS  fully  clad  in  parchment  at  Commencement. 
The  very  generous  faculty  of  Sheepskin  College  gave 
diplomas  for  pretty  nearly  everything  under  the  sun 
-^good,  bad,  and  indifferent.  If  a  pupil  had  a  good 
record  he  carted  away  enough  sheepskin  to  make  him 
a  suit  of  clothes  and  a  spare  coat  and  vest.  If  his 
record  were  only  an  average  one  he  had  at  least  a  suit 
and  even  if  he  were  only  a  poor  hand  at  knowledge  he 
got  enough  to  make  a  pair  of  overalls.  And  with  the 
gaudy  ribbons  and  the  big  blob  of  sealing-wax  that 
went  with  every  diploma  graduates  of  Doctor  Cy- 
clops' education  factory  were  sights  to  behold  when 
they  left  the  institution. 

So,  on  Commencement  Day,  I  both  looked  and  felt 
sheepish — sheepskin  under  both  arms,  sheepskin  in 
both  hands,  sheepskin  in  the  top  of  my  hat,  sheepskin 
stuffed  in  my  bootlegs,  and  sheepskin  rammed  into 
my  breeches.  It  was  one  of  the  big  days  of  my  life. 
Immensely  proud  of  my  learning,  I  happily  conceived 
the  magnificent  idea  of  writing  a  work  of  at  least  five 
thousand  volumes,  each  volume  to  contain  about  seven 
thousand  pages,  the  size  of  a  washboard,  with  a  title- 
page  that  would  read  something  like  this : 
(126) 


AN  ENCYCLOPEDIA 


OF 


UNIVERSAL  KNOWLEDGE 

EMBRACING  ALL  THAT  IS  KNOWN 

IN  THE  HEAVENS  ABOVE,  OR 

IN  THE  EARTH  BENEATH, 

OR  IN  THE  WATERS 

UNDER  THE 

EARTH 


BY 
RED    BEANS 

•Arlttim  Magister 


SHAKKRAC,    NEAR    TOADVILLK,    PLANET    KAKTM 

WE,  I'S  &  COMPANY 

THK    MOON,   THE    SOLAR    SYSTEM,   THE    UNIVERSE 
ALL  THE   TIME 


(«27) 


128  Good  Gumption 

That's  about  all  I  ever  wrote  of  it.  Numerous  en- 
gagements prevented  its  completion,  and  besides,  I  got 
the  toothache  whenever  I  began  work  on  it. 

From  College  Hall,  I  went  to  my  room,  filled  with 
bright  dreams,  crowned  with  glory,  and  laden  with 
hides.  I  sat  down  on  a  box  near  the  window  and  be- 
gan to  unroll  the  ribboned  parchment,  wondering  what 
was  inscribed  by  learning's  finger  on  those  mysterious 
skins.  I  unrolled,  I  gazed,  I  perused.  The  diploma 
in  the  School  of  French  was  the  first  I  chanced  to 
open.    Thus  it  read : 

SHEEPSKIN  COLLEGE. 
This   is   to   certify   that   Mv.   Heredity    Beans   has 
completed  the  Course  in  the  School  of  French,  hav- 
ing learned  to  write  and  speak  that  language  fluent- 

^  ly- 

In  confirmation  whereof  we  place  our  hand  and  seal. 

Joe  Doodle, 
Tom  Fiddler, 
Bill  Pumpkins, 

Trustees. 
Petit  Magnan, 

Professor. 

I  pondered  and  pondered  that  splendid  tribute  to  my 
genius — "having  learned  to  write  and  speak  that  lan- 
guage fluently."  How  a  few  ribbons,  a  dressed  lamb's 
skin,  and  a  stroke  of  a  professor's  quill  can  transform 
a  fellow,  thought  I.  On  the  very  day  of  examination 
it  took  me  five  hours  to  write  twenty  lines  of  French, 
and  then  it  was  only  moderately  well  done ;  now  I  can 
write  fluently,  for  the  professor  hath  sworn  to  it.  Un- 
til Commencement,  I  could  not  make  a  French  barber 
understand  whether  I  wanted  my  hair  cut,  my  beard 


A  $75,000  Farce  129 

shaved,  or  my  shoes  blacked.  I  could  not  ask  in  re- 
spectable French  for  a  dish  of  cowpeas,  but  now  I  can 
"speak  that  language  fluently."  Dumfounded,  electri- 
fied, entranced.  I  stuck  my  feet  out  of  the  window, 
leaned  back  on  my  tripod,  spat  three  times,  smiled  a 
few,  looked  into  the  misty  future,  and  concluding  the 
precious  skins  should  be  devoted  to  worthy  offices,  I 
mentally  disposed  of  my  hides,  about  seventy-five  in 
number,  as  follows:  Three  to  my  bootblack;  make  a 
crupper  for  Bucephalus  out  of  one;  cut  a  pair  of  shoe- 
strings off  another;  stop  a  hole  in  the  window  with 
one ;  trade  balance  for  cake  and  peanuts. 

The  reason  I  received  only  seventy-five  diplomas 
rested  in  the  fact  that  the  sheep  gave  out,  but  this  ca- 
tastrophe will  be  averted  in  the  future,  the  trustees  of 
Sheepskin  College  having  purchased  two  thousand 
acres  of  good  pasturage  for  the  raising  of  sheep.  It 
is  said  that  the  trustees  since  my  day  have  established 
a  blue  ribbon  factory,  the  number  of  prizes  adorned 
with  that  article  beincr  now  about  two  thousand  and 
forty.  Besides  my  sheepskins,  I  was  the  recipient  of  a 
few  honors  in  the  shape  of  medals  and  prizes — about 
one  hundred  and  forty-seven,  I  think.  My  "In  Memo- 
riam"  secured  thirty-nine,  an  essay  on  "How  to  Man- 
age Women"  nearly  as  many  more,  while  I  won  a  num- 
ber for  the  best  imitation  of  hiccoue^hs.  The  medal 
which  T  valued  most,  however,  was  that  presented  to 
me  by  the  institution  as  the  best  crower  in  college. 

Commencement  honors,  however,  had  not  been  ex- 
hausted ofi  the  students,  as  there  was  a  reserve  fund 
of  degrees  that  seemed  to  be  growing  larger  year  by 
9 


130  Good  Gumption 

year.  Naturally,  since  it  was  a  religious  college,  few 
honorary  titles  were  conferred  except  the  degree  of 
D.D.,  but  that  was  handed  out  multitudinously. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  time  of  which  I  write 
is  Commencement.  The  college  grounds  are  thronged 
with  smiling  youth  and  decrepit  age.  Sweet  strains  of 
music  fill  the  air,  laughing  mirth  sits  on  every  lip. 
There's  beauty  in  the  sunshine,  there's  beauty  in  the 
trees,  beauty  in  rich  wreaths  of  flowers,  beauty  in  glad 
young  faces,  beauty  everywhere.  I  look  pretty  well 
myself.  But  stop!  the  bell  rings  for  the  meeting  of 
the  trustees. 

Did  you  ever  see  a  trustee  of  Sheepskin  College? 
Well,  go  to  Commencement ;  wait  till  the  crowd  gath- 
ers and  the  bell  rings.  See  a  man  with  a  beaver  on, 
wearing  a  long-tail  coat  that  floats  in  the  wind;  look 
out  for  a  white  vest  and  a  pewter-headed  walking- 
stick.  Observe  said  man,  unconscious  of  all  things 
here  below,  rushing  toward  the  chapel  as  if  the  day  of 
judgment  had  been  announced,  with  his  eyes  leveled 
at  the  stars — that's  a  trustee  of  Sheepskin  College. 
On  this  mysterious  personage  depends  the  promotion 
and  degreeing  of  the  preachers  who  are  his  satellites. 
He  can  raise  them  up  to  honor  at  will.  He  has  but  to 
utter  the  word,  and,  lo !  the  preacher  rises  from  his  in- 
significance into  a  full-orbed  Doctor  of  Divinity. 

The  trustee  may  be  a  lunatic  or  a  fool,  or  he  may  not 
be  able  to  tell  the  difference  between  the  New  Testa- 
ment and  an  almanac,  yet  with  great  authority  he  in- 
forms the  world  which  man  it  shall  call  Doctor  and 
which  it  shall  not.  Mirabile  dictu!  To  be  sure,  the 
trustees  are  very  popular  gentlemen  with  a  large  num- 


A  $75,000  Farce  131 

ber  of  clergymen,  their  favor  being  worth  more  than 
rubies  and  their  vote  more  than  tine  gold.  Ah!  how 
sweet  to  the  priestly  tril)e  of  Levi  to  1)e  called  of  men 
"Rabbi.  Rabbi." 

The  trustees  at  last  reach  solemn  conclave,  while  be- 
fore them  lie  five  hundred  and  seventeen  modest  appli- 
cations for  the  doctorate.  Some  of  these  api)lications 
have  been  renewed  ten  times,  and  now  come  again, 
fortified  with  new  pleas  and  stronger  claims.  It  is 
truly  an  anxious  and  interesting  season  for  expectant 
clergymen;  it  is  the  hour  when  D.D.'s  are  born.  The 
preachers  instinctively  get  nearer  the  chapel;  some 
gather  in  the  dormitories,  looking  out  of  the  windows 
on  the  D.D.  factory,  all  declaring  they  don't  expect, 
and  don't  want  the  honor. 

The  college  guardians  tarry  long  at  the  board.  Vivt 
hundred  and  sixteen  of  the  applications  have  passed 
smoothly,  but  the  five-hundred-and-seventeenth  hangs 
fire.  He  seems  to  have  no  gifts  and  no  graces ;  he  is 
a  poor  speaker,  a  poor  scholar,  a  poor  preacher.  Yet 
he  attends  Commencement  punctually,  and  if  possi- 
ble, something  should  be  done  for  him.  So  a  commit- 
tee of  seven  of  the  wisest  and  most  accurate  of  the 
board  is  appointed  to  visit  the  brother,  and  take  a 
careful  measurement  of  his  abdomen.  Tf  the  measure 
reaches  the  standard,  il  will  be  well  with  the  son  of 
Levi.  The  revered  sages  wait  on  the  gentleman  whose 
glory  seems  to  be  swinging  in  the  balance,  throw  him 
down  on  a  student's  couch,  and  tell  him  to  swell  up. 
He  swells  up,  reaches  the  required  notch,  gets  his  de- 
gree, and  has  been  swelling  ever  since.  Tt  is  rumored 
that  the  trustees  have  adjourned.     The  aspiring  theo- 


132  Good  Gumption 

logians  scramble  out  of  the  dormitories  and  down  the 
stairways.    Snobbs  breaks  his  leg  in  the  rush. 

I  remember  only  a  few  of  the  distinguished  gentle- 
men who  got  their  degree  when  I  graduated  and  the 
grounds  on  which  their  degree  was  conferred.  The 
Rev.  January  Jones  received  the  double  sacred  conso- 
nant because  he  was  a  friend  of  the  college;  the  Rev. 
Shadrach  Bones,  because  it  was  thought  his  influence 
in  behalf  of  the  institution  would  thus  be  secured ;  the 
Rev.  Jonas  Puzzle,  because  it  w^ould  put  him  on  equal- 
ity with  the  other  D.D.'s  in  Sloshville;  the  Rev.  Eben- 
ezer  Gunn,  because  it  would  help  him  get  a  call ;  the 
Rev.  Sunflower  Smith,  because  he  had  wTitten  an  ele- 
gy on  a  dog;  the  Rev.  Malachi  Botts,  because  he  had 
just  recovered  from  a  severe  spell  of  cramp  colic ;  the 
Rev.  Josiah  Smash,  because  his  stomach  was  the  right 
size;  the  Rev.  Mullikins  Bunch,  because  it  would  help 
him  to  marry  a  widow^ ;  the  Rev.  John  Bottle,  because 
he  had  been  on  hand  fifteen  years,  and  had  become  so 
dilapidated  that,  unless  doctored,  he  would  peg  out; 
the  Rev.  Popkins  Cabbagehead,  because  he  preached 
through  his  nose  an  hour  and  a  half  without  injuring 
that  organ;  the  Rev.  Agag  Cholagogue,  because  he 
made  a  pun  at  the  college  banquet;  the  Rev.  Ipecac 
Brown,  because  his  church  wanted  a  change,  and 
threatened  to  leave  the  denomination  unless  the  trus- 
tess  gave  the  said  Ipecac  the  wings  of  divinity  with 
which  to  fly  to  some  other  field;  and  the  Rev.  Wood- 
pecker Donquey,  because  he  wept  at  his  mother-in- 
law's  funeral. 

These  are  all  good  reasons ;  and  wisdom  is  justified 
of  all  her  children.     The  last  thing  T  saw  of  the  new 


A  $75,000  Farce  133 

doctors  of  divinity,  they  were  posturing  on  a  plot  of 
sand  in  the  campus,  making  D's. 

'The  fuss  of  Commencement  Day  had  died  away, 
while  the  delighted  crowds  were  fast  dispersing.  So 
let  me  return  to  the  Cyclopses. 

Owing:  to  examinations.  I  had  not  seen  much  of  the 
president's  family  of  late;  still  they  had  fed  me  on 
cream  and  cake.  I  learned,  however,  from  the  college 
"Literary  Comet,"  that  the  Doctor  and  his  wife  were 
to  accompany  their  daughter  on  a  protracted  bridal 
tour  through  Europe,  Palestine,  and  Egypt,  collecting 
a  costly  geological  cabinet  and  many  rare  specimens  of 
other  'ologies  for  the  college;  and  that,  provided  the 
Egyptians  were  disposed  to  sell,  the  Doctor  w^ould 
bring  back  one  of  the  smaller  of  the  pyramids. 

This  statement  accounted  for  the  excitement  preva- 
lent in  the  president's  home.  The  Cyclopses  were  evi- 
dently enjoying  a  boom.  The  Doctor  had  taken  up 
again  his  French  studies,  and  could  be  seen  traversing 
the  back  porch,  imagining  himself  in  Paris,  conversing 
with  eminent  scientists,  or  else  ordering  a  hack,  or  in- 
quiring the  w^ay  to  Notre  Dame,  all  in  Prench.  It  also 
was  possible  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  him  familiarizing 
himself  with  an  exhaustive  guidebook  he  had  just  pur- 
chased. Mrs.  Cyclops  usually  was  bending  over  a 
large  atlas  of  the  w^orld,  marking  out  the  bridal  tour. 
Finikie  seemed  to  be  engaged  in  making  up  finery. 

I  was  packing  up  my  trunk  to  start  homeward  next 
morning.  While  matters  stood  thus,  a  village  lad 
walked  carelessly  into  my  room,  handing  me  a  paper 
which  T  reproduce  on  the  next  page. 


134  Good  Gumption 

Mr.  H.  Beans, 

To  The  Eagle  Emporium,  Dr. 

To     I  traveling  suit  for  Mrs.  Cyclops $  50  00 

13  dresses  for  Mrs.  Cyclops 340  00 

3  pr.  shoes  for  Mrs.  Cyclops 10  50 

2  pr.  slippers  for  Mrs.  Cyclops 4  00 

7   fans   for   Mrs.    Cyclops i  75 

Miscellany    45  00 

To  trousseau  for  Miss  Cyclops 380  00 

To     I  suit  broadcloth  for  Dr.  Cyclops 65  00 

3  doz.  shirts  for  Dr.  Cyclops 44  00 

I  beaver  for  Dr.  Cyclops 8  00 

Underwear  for  Dr.  Cyclops 20  00 

Gold-headed  cane '  5  00 

I  pr.  boots 1 3  00 

I  opera  glass 3  00 

I  pr.  gold-rimmed  spectacles 7  00 

Total    amount $992  25 

As    our    establishment    is    run    on    a    strictly    cash 

basis,   and  as  you   are   a   stranger  to  us,   we  beg  a 

prompt  settlement  of  the  above  account.   . 

Very  respectfully,  Eagle  Emporium  Co. 

After  my  bewilderment  had  sufficiently  subsided, 
pointing  to  the  president's  house,  I  told  the  boy  he  had 
mistaken  the  place;  then,  taking  out  my  shabby  old 
purse,  I  invited  the  youth  to  look  within  and  report  to 
the  Eagle  Emporium  what  he  saw. 

Next  morning,  after  breakfast,  having  harnessed 
up  Bucephalus  and  strapped  my  trunk  to  the  buggy, 
I  set  out  for  Shakerag.  As  I  passed  the  president's 
house,  the  Doctor,  in  company  with  Mrs.  Cyclops  and 
Finikie,  sat  expectant  on  the  porch,  holding  a  guide- 
book in  his  hand. 

''Halloa !  Red,"  he  cried  out.   I  reined  up  and  looked 


H 
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(135) 


136  Good  Gumption 

back.  "By  the  way,  Beans,  has  the  Emporium  said 
anything  to  you  about  that  httle  bill  of  ours?  I  in- 
tended mentioning  it  to  you,  but  forgot  it." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  I.  "I  told  the  boy  he  was  mistaken 
in  the  name,  and  directed  him  to  you.  It's  all  right. 
Doctor." 

*'Yes!  yes!  Well — er — Red,  old  fellow,  could  you 
make  it  convenient  to  settle  that  little  matter?  I'm 
scarce  of  funds,  you  know,  and  then  we'll  soon  all  be 
one,  anyway,  like  the  disciples,  having  all  things  in 


common." 


"Impossible,  Doctor;  I  never  had  so  much  money  in 
my  life.  The  largest  amount  I  ever  had  of  my  own 
money  was  seven  dollars  and  a  half,  left  me  by  my 


grandmother.' 


"But  the  $75,000." 

"Sir?"  said  I. 

"Did  you  not  receive  a  legacy  of  $75,000  from  some 


source?' 


"Too  absurd.  Doctor.  The  papers  made  some  such 
ridiculous  blunder,  but  that's  all." 

"I  don't  understand,  sir.  ^^'hat  about  the  marriage 
and  the  bridal  tour?"  . 

"I  know  nothing  of  such  things  more  than  I  saw  in 
the  'Comet.'    I  hope  you'll  have  a  good  time.  Doctor." 

"Is  this  afifair  all  a  hoax?"  gasped  ]\Irs.  Cyclops. 
"Sir,  didn't  you  court  Finikie  Cyclops,  and  represent 
yourself  as  having  a  fortune?" 

"No,  madam ;  I  never  did  either.  I  am  as  poor  as  a 
church-mouse,  and  never  courted  but  one  girl,  to  whom 
I  am  now  engaged.  I  told  Dr.  Cyclops  plainly  that  I 
was  enq-ao-ed.  when  he  visited  me." 


A  $75,000  Farce  137 

"Dr.  Cyclops,"  said  Mrs.  Cyclops,  "are  you  tlic  au- 
thor of  all  this  folly  ?  Have  you  involved  us  hopeless- 
ly in  debt?  Have  you  made  us  a  butt  of  ridicule  for 
all  our  friends  ?    And  all  over  this  poor,  country  boor !" 

"Ah!  as  the  poet  has  well  sung,  'I've  seen  my  fond- 
est hopes  decay,'  and  my  noblest  visions  fade  like  the 
'tmsubstantial  pageant  of  a  dream.'  No  Europe!  no 
fossils,  no  Arabian  steeds!  Tush,  pish-sh!"  sighed 
the  Doctor. 

Finikie,  overhearing  the  conversation,  fainted, 
gasping  "$75,000!" 

"Poor,  piney-woods  scrub,  and  a  $75,000  farce!" 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Cyclops. 

"And  the  wasted  cake  and  cream !"  said  Finikie,  as 
she  revived. 

"Fi-diddle!"  chimed  in  the  Doctor,  in  a  melancholy 
key. 

"And  that  Eagle  Emporium  bill !"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Cyclops,  sure  to  have  the  last  word. 

I  bade  the  unhappy  trio  a  sad  farewell  and  learned 
with  sincere  regret,  from  a  student  who  left  two  days 
later,  that  at  the  time  of  his  departure  a  number  of 
physicians  were  in  consultation  at  the  Cyclopses'.  But 
I  couldn't  help  it. 


I    G  0     TO      THE     WAR 


Chapter   XII. 


It  was  the  memorable  year  1861.  War  and  rumors 
of  war  filled  the  land.  Fort  Sumter  had  just  been 
taken,  and  cannon  were  belching  out  death  along  the 
frontier.  Trains  daily  were  transporting  soldiers  to 
the  field  of  action.  Gentle  hands  were  wont  to  wave 
snowy  handkerchiefs  from  porch  and  window  at  every 
brass  button  that  passed.  I  became  exceedingly  pa- 
triotic all  of  a  sudden,  and  longed  to  display  on  the 
field  of  battle  the  military  genius  I  felt  I  possessed.  1 
read  all  the  books  I  could  find  relating  to  wars,  as- 
sassinations, and  massacres.  In  one  of  my  blood- 
thirsty inspirations,  my  fingers  itching  for  the  fight, 
I  climbed  upon  the  smokehouse  and  shouted  defiant- 
ly, "Hurrah  for  liberty!"  It  would  have  been  a  fu- 
neral occasion  had  the  enemy  come  in  sight  at  that 
moment.    But  the  scene  passed  off  without  bloodshed. 

Just  fresh  from  college,  I,  naturally  enough,  was  un- 
skilled in  the  use  of  arms  and  quite  lacking  in  common 
sense,  so,  I  made  it  my  first  care  to  practice  gunnery. 
As  a  suitable  representation  of  the  foe,  I  rolled  out 
from  the  shed  a  tar  barrel,  which  I  set  on  end,  placing 
a  mammoth  pumpkin  on  it  for  a  head.  I  thrust  a  piece 
of  old  lightning  rod  through  the  pumpkin  to  symbolize 
a  rifle — for,  at  that  stage  of  mv  martial  career,  I  would 
(138) 


I  Go  to  the  War  139 

not  fight  an  unarmed  foe,  and  besides,  it  evinced  an  in 
expensive  magnanimity.    Then  T  stood  off  about  twen- 
ty-five paces  and  fired  away  with  an  old  ante-Revoki- 
tionary  gun,  charged  with  buckshot. 

"I  suspect  that  fellow  feels  the  medicinal  properties 
•of  shot,"  said  I,  with  great  satisfaction  as  I  saw  the 
smoke  clear  away.  On  examination,  however,  I  found 
my  enemy  unhurt,  while  over  the  hill  T  espied  old 
Guinea  John,  my  father's  blacksmith,  capering  in  a 
most  interesting  manner,  and  rul)l)ing  his  legs  with 
unwonted  zeal,  as  if  to  indicate  that  I  could  do  better 
at  long  taw  than  short.  So  I  loaded  up  again  to  try 
my  luck.  Bang!  went  my  gun,  but  there  still  was  no 
indication  of  good  shooting  save  the  squealing  of  a 
pig  that  happened  to  be  crossing  the  lot. 

As  long,  however,  as  I  was  in  the  midst  of  such  en- 
couraging evidences  of  the  vitality  of  my  shot,  I  kept 
good  heart,  resolving  to  try  my  skill  one  more  time. 
Having  put  a  handful  of  shot  in  my  trusty  gun,  T  crept 
up  within  ten  paces  of  my  man,  shouting,  "Surren- 
der!" but  the  lightning  rod  not  being  lowered  with 
satisfactory  promptitude,  I  fired  point-blank  at  the 
stubborn  foe.  I  bagged  the  game  that  time ;  one  shot 
grazed  the  pumpkin,  while  three  entered  the  barrel, 
giving  vent  to  oozing  tar.  "I've  brought  the  blood  at 
last!"  T  cried  exultingly;  and,  grasping  the  rusty  old 
saber  my  father  had  used  in  the  Mexican  War,  I  sav- 
agely thrust  the  pumi)kin  through,  determining  to  take 
no  prisoners. 

My  next  preparation  for  war  was  to  rig  myself  up 
in  brass  buttons,  put  on  a  military  cap,  mount  Bu- 
cephalus, and  give  a  war-whoop.     All  of  these  things 


140  Good  Gumption 

I  did  after  the  manner  of  a  true  soldier,  and  then 
I  started  off  for  "the  front"  and  glory.  Coon  Hollow 
was  in  the  line  of  my  journey  to  the  Virginia  army 
(and,  by  the  way,  I  can't  conceive  of  any  journey  in 
which  Coon  Hollow  would  not  have  been  in  my  line) 
and  Polytechnic,  as  fortune  would  have  it,  met  me  at. 
the  gate  with  smiles  and  roses. 

"To-day,  dear  girl,  I  draw  my  sword  for  my  coun- 
try and  thee,"  said  I,  brandishing  my  old  saber  in  the 
sultry  air,  and  cutting  up  a  maypop  vine  by  the  roots. 

"Oh!  Red,  it  breaks  my  heart  to  think  of  your 
going  to  this  cruel,  cruel  war." 

"It's  my  country's  call,  sweet  cherub,"  said  I,  with 
stoic  firmness.  "I  haste  me  to  battle  that  I  may  divide 
the  spoil  with  the  victors.  I  only  fear  the  war  will  end 
before  I  get  a  chance  to  bathe  my  blade  in  blood." 

Just  here,  old  Guinea  John  drove  by  in  a  cart  laden 
with  a  coffin  and  two  big  trunks.  The  latter  only  hav- 
ing caught  Polytechnic's  eye,  the  innocent  creature, 
looking  trustfully  into  my  visual  organs,  asked,  "Why 
do  you  carry  so  many  clothes?  Are  you  to  be  gone 
from  me  so  long?" 

"  'Wherefore  those  trunks,'  do  you  ask  ?  Why, 
my  shroud  and  burial  wreaths  are  in  one,  and  Pm  tak- 
ing the  other  to  bring  back  scalps  in.  Good-by,  my 
love,"  said  I,  raising  my  foot  in  the  stirrup. 

"Oh !  do  stay  to  tea !"  pleaded  the  fair  maid. 

"No!"  said  I  sternly;  "every  moment  is  golden.  Pm 
afraid  P'll  not  be  therein  time  for  the  first  battle." 

"Ah !  I  know  you'll  be  killed.  You  are  so  brave  that 
you  will  rush  into  the  thickest  of  the  fight,  and  perish 
at  the  cannon's  mouth." 


I  Go  to  the  War  141 

"I'll  return  willi  my  sword  or  on  it,"  rejoined  1, 
shaking  my  spurs  significantly. 

This  frightened  the  dear  girl,  who,  with  tears  glis- 
tening in  her  hright  hlue  eyes,  unmindful  of  the  differ- 
ing conditions,  repeated  Andromache's  touching  ap- 
peal to  Hector : 

"  'Too  l)ravc !  thy  valor  yet  will  cause  thy  death : 
Thou  hast  no  pity  on  thy  tender  child, 
Nor  me,  imhappy  one,  who  soon  must  be 
Thy  widow.     All  the  Greeks  will  rush  on  thee 
To  take  thy  life.     A  happier  lot  were  mine, 
If  I  must  lose  thee,  to  go  down  to  earth. 
For  I  shall  have  no  hope  when  thou  art  gone — 
Nothing  but  sorrow.     Father  I  have  none. 
And  no  dear  mother.     Great  Achilles  slew 
My  father  when  he  sacked  the  populous  town 
Of  the  Cilicians — Thebe  with  high  gates. 

Hector,  thou 
Art  father  and  dear  mother  now  to  me. 
And  brother  and  my  youthful  spouse  besides. 
In  pity  keep  within  the  fortress  here, 
Nor  make  thy  child  an  orphan  nor  thy  wife 
A  widow.'  " 

Fortunately,  I  remembered  a  few  lines  of  Hector's 
reply,  which  T  had  been  required  to  memorize  at  school 
as  a  penalty  for  missing  a  geography  lesson : 

"  'All  this 
I  bear  in  mind,  dear  wife;  but  I  should  stand 
Ashamed  before  the  men  and  long-robed  dames 
Of  Troy,  were  I  to  keep  aloof  and  shun 
The  conflict,  cowardlike.'  " 

"IMy  Reddie,  should  the  sad  news  that  you  are 
wounded  or  dead  reach  me,  tell  me  where  I  may  find 
you,"  said  she,  putting  her  little  hand  in  mine. 


142  Good  Gumption 

"Beneath  cannon  balls  and  the  corpses  of  heroes," 
returned  I,  in  martial  accents. 

"Oh!  my  soldier  boy,"  said  the  sympathetic  crea- 
ture; "if  you  only  had  a  horse  instead  of  a  mule!" 

"Yes,  I  might  gobble  up  more  of  the  enemy  as  they 

fly-" 

"And  then,  in  case  of  defeat,  you  might  stand  a  bet- 
ter chance  of  escape." 

"Defeat — escape?"  repeated  I,  disdainfully.  "Child, 
do  you  know  the  history  of  my  ancestors  ?  My  grand- 
father fought  in  the  Revolution,  my  father  in  the  Mex- 
ican War,  while  my  grandmother  whipped  both  of 
them.  Fighting  stock,  you  see,  all  around.  Besides, 
in  the  first  encounter — there'll  hardly  be  more  than 
one  if  I  get  there  in  time — I'll  capture  a  fiery  charger, 
and  make  a  martin-box  of  his  rider." 

Clad  in  my  fighting  clothes,  my  spurs  ringing  like 
distant  Alpine  bells,  I  left  the  beautiful  girl,  subdued 
by  tears  and  rapt  in  admiration,  as  I  mounted  Bu- 
cephalus and  drew  my  saber,  shouting, 

"On!  ye  brave. 
Who  rush  to  glory,  or  the  grave!" 

After  a  journey  of  two  days  and  a  half,  I  reached  a 
small  inland  town,  which  seemed  to  be  all  astir  about 
something.  Crowds  of  people  had  gathered  from  the 
surrounding  country  to  witness  the  glory  of  some 
great  occasion.  Houses  were  decorated  with  minia- 
ture fiags,  cannon  made  of  flowers,  and  small,  crossed, 
tin  swords,  while  from  the  courthouse  floated  the  Stars 
and  Bars  in  undiluted  pugnacity.  I  happened  to  learn, 
from  the  conversation  of  a  couple  of  old  rustics  who 


I  Go  to  the  War  143 

sauntered  on  before  nie,  that  Jefferson  Davis  was  ex- 
pected momentaril)  lo  i)ass  through  the  town,  and 
that  this  tremendous  flutter  was  designed  as  an  ova- 
tion in  his  honor. 

As  I  drew  up  near  the  courthouse  square,  ni)-  mule 
dishonored  the  occasion  by  voicing  his  emotion  in  a 
terrific  bray.  Tliis,  forsooth,  attracted  the  attention  of 
the  multitude,  who,  looking  upon  ni\-  briglu  uniform 
and  untarnished  buttons,  mistook  me  for  the  Presi- 
dent, and  shouted.  "Hurrah  for  Jeff"  Davis!"  Mr. 
Davis  being  unknown  in  those  parts,  and,  like  all  noted 
persons,  supposed  to  be  fine-looking  and  to  possess 
unusual  dignity,  the  mistake  thus  was  easily  made. 
The  town  band  instantly  struck  up  "Dixie,"  two  old 
anvils  placed  one  on  the  other,  with  a  little  powder 
between,  somewhat  comically  performed  the  function 
of  a  cannon,  and  the  crowd  broke  forth  into  "three 
cheers  for  Jeff"  Davis." 

In  the  feverish  excitement  that  ensued  the  towns- 
people gave  me  no  opportunity  to  explain  or  to  deny, 
but  escorted  me  in  great  state  and  with  august  cere- 
monies to  a  banquet  prepared  expressly  for  the  South- 
ern chief  magistrate.  When  T  entered  the  townhall. 
about  three  hundred  girls,  with  banners  streaming 
from  staves,  filed  before  me,  each  depositing  a  kiss  for 
the  "father  of  his  country."  T  sat  down  at  a  special 
table,  and  was  waited  on  by  the  fairest  of  ministering 
spirits,  while  bands  played  and  anvils  roared.-  After 
I  had  eaten  as  much  as  I  thought  a  great  man  ought  to 
eat,  I  arose,  and  calling  up  the  girls  in  line  again,  gave 
them  a  paternal  kiss.  An  old  gentleman,  holding  a 
flagon  in  his  hand,  stepped  up  to  me  affectionately, 


144  Good  Gumption 

saying,  "Here's  a  bit  of  old  wine  I've  been  saving  some 
forty  years ;  you  can  do  no  greater  honor  than  to  test 
its  merits."  I  decHned  the  sparkHng  fluid  on  the 
ground  of  temperance  principles,  and  was  about  to  ex- 
press suitable  thanks,  when  a  noble  old  lady,  catching 
me  by  the  elbow,  led  me  to  a  fine  ice  cream  freezer, 
whose  unadulterated  contents  I  carefully  began  to  re- 
move. 

Again  the  girls  formed  in  line  and  were  surging 
toward  me  for  another  kiss,  but  pointing  to  the  freezer, 
I  asked  to  be  excused.  Every  five  minutes  they  formed 
and  renewed  their  march,  seeking  to  express  their  pa- 
triotism in  cheap  kisses.  Being  wearied  with  lip  serv- 
ice, I  engaged  an  old  codger  to  take  a  stand  in  the 
great  hall  and  to  accommodate  the  afifectionate  pa- 
triots in  my  stead.  He  planted  a  Confederate  flag  in 
his  wide-brimmed  hat,  hung  a  brass  button  around 
his  neck,  claimed  to  be  one  of  my  cabinet  officers,  and 
then — 

Maidens  to   right  of  him, 
Maidens  to  left  of  him, 
Maidens  in  front  of  him 

Frolicked  and  kissed  him  ; 
Rushed  on  with  whoop  and  yell, 
ip      On  they  surged  pelly-mell. 
Into  the  jaws  of  man — 
The  mouth  of  the  old  "fel. ;" 

Never  one  missed  him. 

While  these  interesting  performances  were  in  prog- 
ress, tenderest  hands  were  ramming  oranges  and  ap- 
ples into  my  pockets,  and  eager  eyes  showered  upon 
me  their  softest  benedictions.     Suddenly  an  eccentric 


I  Go  to  the  War  145 

old  gentleman  came  near  spoiling  everything  by  call- 
ing upon  me  for  a  speech.  What  in  the  world  could  I 
say  on  such  an  occasion?  \\  hat  were  the  great  issues 
of  the  day?  What  were  we  going  to  fight  about? 
What  principles  were  involved,  and  who  involved  'em  ? 

I  still  had  no  idea  that  I  was  posing  as  Jeff  Davis; 
and  yet,  I  marveled  why  everybody  was  so  wondrous 
kind.  T  thought  to  evade  the  difficulty  by  cultivating 
my  freezer  more  assiduously,  but  alas!  I  had  struck 
bottom — and  all  hands  were  crying  wildly,  "Speech! 
speech !"  I  wanted  to  call  up  the  girls  again  for  re- 
lief— and  by  this  let  all  men  know  the  awful  strait  to 
which  I  was  reduced — l)Ut  they  had  become  scattered 
in  the  crowd,  and  I  am  sure  they  would  have  been 
greatly  disappointed  had  they  known  the  opportunit)- 
they  missed.  But  they  would  be  ready  for  the  next 
man.    So  nothing  was  left  me  but  to  speak. 

"Fellow-countrymen,"  said  I,  like  a  modern  Demos- 
thenes, "the  times  are  rife  with  smoke  and  battle ;  your 
liberties  are  threatened,  your  homes  endangered,  and 
your — "  here  a  plank  tilted  up,  throwing  me  on  top  of 
a  bunch  of  men.  while  the  multitude  frantically  rushed 
around  me,  cheering  at  every  breath,  supposing  me  to 
be  too  much  overcome  with  patriotism  to  be  able  to 
continue.  Getting,  however,  a  foothold  on  the  shoul- 
ders of  an  athletic  citizen,  I  concluded, 

"Strike — till  the  last  armed  foe  expires : 
Strike — for  potatoes,  peanuts,  briers  : 
Strike — for  the  collards  of  your  sires ; 
Niggers — and  cotton  lands  !" 

And  T  struck — for  the  next  town — leaving  the  frag- 
ments for  Mr.  Davis,  who  arrived  an  hour  later. 

lO 


146  Good  Gumption 

I  reached  the  plain  of  Manassas,  breathing  out 
slaughter  and  destruction,  just  as  Johnston  and  Beau- 
regard were  posting  the  Confederate  forces  for  bat- 
tle. In  front,  the  enemy's  massive  blue  columns  came 
moving  on  to  the  sound  of  the  drum.  The  two  armies 
confronted  each  other  for  a  brief  period  in  silence. 
While  the  silence  lasted  I  got  along  pretty  well,  but 
when  in  the  distance  I  heard  the  hoarse  voice  of  artil- 
lery, and  nearer,  the  sharp  crack  of  musketry,  while 
all  along  the  line  minie  balls  began  to  whistle  and  shells 
began  to  burst,  I  felt  dismal.  As  men  were  falling 
around  me  on  every  side,  and  as  I  strove  to  muster  the 
inherited  valor  of  my  ancestry  by  repeating  the  Latin 
motto 

Diilce  et  decorum  est  pro  pafria  mori, 

suddenly  a  cannon  ball  beheaded  a  huge  pine  tree 
hard  by,  causing  me  to  realize  the  difference  between 
a  man  and  a  tar  barrel,  a  rifle  and  a  lightning  rod. 
Immediately  inverting  the  order  of  Bucephalus's  ex- 
tremities, putting  his  tail  where  his  head  had  been,  I 
fired  both  barrels  of  my  trusty  weapon  toward  the 
blue  dome  of  heaven,  and  with  drawn  saber,  was  on 
the  point  of  charging  the  equator,  when  Bucephalus 
took  a  strange  notion  to  stay  where  he  was,  and  com- 
menced backing — that's  the  way  a  mule  indicates  his 
preference  for  staying  where  he  is — but  to  back  in  his 
position  was  to  charge  the  enemy!  The  effect  was 
magical  on  the  Southern  cavalry.  AMiole  squadrons 
darted  forward,  with  Bucephalus  still  backing  in  the 
lead,  while  the  enemy,  alarmed  by  this  novel  method  of 
warfare,  fled  precipitately  toward  the  District  of  Co- 
lumbia. 


Q 


X   - 
J   - 


H    c 
a:    =: 


^ 
>    ^ 


(147; 


148  Good  Gumption 

Thus  was  Bucephalus  the  determining  factor  at 
Bull  Run.  When  my  trusty  mule  found  out  that  the 
enemy  was  fleeing,  having  turned  around  his  head 
far  enough  to  see  what  was  going  on,  he  turned  the 
remainder  of  his  anatomy  and  assisted  in  the  pursuit. 
He  would  have  been  running  yet,  I  suppose,  if  it  had 
not  been  for  the  fact  that  we  both  got  hungry  and 
stopped  for  supper  at  a  splendidly-equipped  commis- 
sariat wagon  left  by  the  enemy  in  his  precipitate  flight. 
Having  indulged  our  appetites  we  stretched  out  under 
the  stars  for  a  quiet  snooze  and  did  not  awake  until 
the  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens  the  next  day. 

Then  we  meandered  gracefully  back  to  camp  and 
most  unexpectedly  found  that  we  were  the  heroes  of 
the  hour  and  the  battle.  General  Beauregard  knew 
it  and  so  did  the  entire  army,  for  that  matter.  The 
enemy  likewise  was  aware  of  the  fact,  and  General 
Winfield  Scott  so  felt  the  force  of  the  presence  of  He- 
redity Beans  and  his  gallant  mule  that  he  resigned  his 
commission,  declaring  that  he  could  not  fight  against 
an  inverted  jackass  and  an  insane  one  mounted  upon 
him. 

You,  dear  reader,  can  imagine,  if  you  exercise  your 
brain  overtime,  the  exceeding  joy  with  which  I  indited 
letters  to  the  folks  at  home  telling  them  of  the  exploits 
of  master  and  mule.  My  father,  of  course,  declared 
that  his  doctrine  of  hereditation  was  working  out  most 
clearly  in  me  his  only  son.  He  predicted  that  soon  I 
would  become  the  commander-in-chief  of  the  Confed- 
erate forces  and  that  soon  after  that  I  would  sweep 
the  enemy  up  into  Canada.  But  the  best  of  all  was 
what  my  darling  Polytechnic  said  about  my  adven- 


I  Go  to  the   War  149 

ture.  I  was  her  licro  and  her  king.  I  was  also  the 
recipient  of  a  fine  pair  of  socks  knitted  by  her  fair 
fingers — and  1  needed  them  more  than  I  did  her  kind 
words. 

For  my  gallantry  at  Manassas  T  was  promoted  to 
the  captaincy  of  a  squad  of  foragers,  and  during  the 
remainder  of  the  war  spent  my  time  about  equally  in 
chasing  the  enemy  and  being  chased  by  him.  But  when 
the  end  came,  I  surrendered  perpetually.  T  took  up  an 
old  United  States  fiag,  waved  it  over  the  flop-eared 
head  of  Bucephalus,  and  with  hearty  good  will  shouted 
"God  bless  the  old  flag!    God  save  the  Union !" 

The  war  over,  T  made  my  way  to  Shakerag,  where 
T  tied  my  mule  to  a  stack  of  fodder,  and  began  to  ex- 
ercise the  arts  of  peace. 


STARTING    IN    LIFE 


Chapter   XIII. 


All  too  soon  the  necessity  of  addressing  myself  to 
some  remunerative  work  forced  itself  upon  me.  The 
necessity  was  clear  enough,  but  what  should  the  work 
be?  What  should  I  do  for  a  living?  This  was  the 
momentous  question  that  met  me  at  the  portals  of 
ripening  manhood.  The  world  around  me  was  rush- 
ing madly  after  gain,  and  I  joined  the  multitude. 
"Make  money"  became  my  motto,  and  seemed  em- 
broidered in  my  visions  in  threads  of  gold.  With 
what  mystic  wand  should  I  smite  the  tree  of  luck  and 
shake  therefrom  the  coin  in  golden  showers?  What 
profession  should  I  adopt  as  the  one  in  which  to  shine 
all  my  life  ?  What  pursuit  of  the  many  should  I  join 
in  the  race  for  fame  and  fortune  and  high  station  ? 

I  first  thought  I  would  be  a  lawyer.  I  was  tolerably 
sure  I  had  some  turn  for  public  speaking,  and  there  is 
always  room  in  the  upper  story  of  the  legal  profession 
for  first-class  talent.  Of  course,  that  was  the  sort  I 
had.  What  fortunes  are  sometimes  made  by  a  single 
speech !  What  great  names  adorn  the  records  of  the 
Bar !  Still,  there  arose  in  my  mind  several  serious  ob- 
jections. The  law  is  the  only  profession  in  which  value 
is  attached  to  a  lie.  In  the  legal  profession  a  lie  ordi- 
(^50) 


iiiiiiiiiiii'^'y-^jafe;:?^    ■  ■i:~..-.v^' .!■! 


'what  should   I   DO    FOR   A    LIVING?' 


(151) 


152  Good  Gumption 

narily  is  worth  from  $5  to  $25,000;  now  and  then, 
when  a  fortune  is  involved,  a  He,  well  put  together, 
neatly  dovetailed,  double  veneered,  highly  polished,  of 
double  back  action,  warranted  to  stand  in  any  climate, 
and  neither  to  spring  nor  to  crack,  will  bring  $50,000. 
But,  being  distantly  related  to  the  man  who  cut  the 
cherry  tree,  and  thinking  I  might  some  day  want  to  go 
to  heaven,  I  abandoned  the  idea  of  becoming  a  lawyer. 
Somehow  or  other  I  cannot  imagine  a  lawyer  getting 
into  the  New  Jerusalem. 

Next  I  wooed  the  Muse.  Under  a  happy  inspira- 
tion, I  discovered  that  I  was  possessed  of  the  gift  of 
poesy  in  a  large  degree.  Yes,  I  was  born  a  poet,  not 
made;  and  whole  firkins  of  the  crude  stuff  had  been 
leaking  out  of  me  in  beatific  visions,  beautiful  dreams, 
and  unrecorded  thoughts  that  stood  out  as  mental 
rainbows  on  the  dark  cloud  of  life.  The  magazines 
were  waiting  for  the  coming  poet?  He  had  come. 
Homer,  \^irgil,  Shakespeare,  Milton,  Dante,  Beans! 
I  resolved  to  stun  the  reading  world  with  a  drama  in 
verse.  I'd  tell  a  pathetic  story  of  a  clergyman  who, 
on  his  first  visit  to  the  coast,  foolishly  ventured  into 
the  surf.  This  would  make  a  tragedy  to  touch  all 
hearts,  even  those  of  magazine  editors,  which  I  reck- 
oned to  be  hardest  of  all. 

I  conceived  the  plot  in  the  moonlight,  and  composed 
as  the  sun  was  bathing  the  eastern  hills  in  golden 
splendor.  That  is,  I  composed  one  verse  a  day  that 
way.  True  verse  does  not  rush,  even  from  the  mas- 
ters, in  cataracts,  but  flows  like  limpid  brooks.  Here 
is  the  poem,  which  I  called  "A  Divine  Comedy,"  al- 
though T  neither  thought  to  make  a  pun  out  of  the  title 


Starting  in   Life  153 

nor    to    imitate    the    titular    style   of    my    fellow-poet, 
Dante,  and  his  Dixina  Comedia : 

In  August,  eighteen  sixty-four 
A  parson  went  to  see  the  shore ; 
He  saw  the  shore,  he  saw  the  sea. 
And  danced  and  laughed  quite  merrily. 

His  form  was  lithe,  his  eye  was  bright, 
His  brain  was  clear,  his  step  was  light : 
He  plunged  into  the  briny  deep — 
And  glad  his  shout,  and  high  his  leap. 

The  waves  were  rough,  the  tide  was  high; 
The  undertow  came  sweeping  by : 
The  pulpit  star  at  once  did  shout 
To  all  around  to  help  him  out. 

His  eyes  the  while  did  larger  grow, 
His  breast  did  heave,  his  cheeks  did  glow: 
He  plunged  and  leaped,  and  seemed  to  be 
Preparing  for  eternity. 

At  length  this  son  of  thunder  cried : 
"A  shark  !  a  shark  is  at  my  side !" 
His  soul  took  fright,  his  body  rolled — 
Yet  nothing  save  a  crab  had  hold. 

At  last  the  parson  came  ashore, 
And  brine  did  ooze  from  every  pore ; 
He  clapped  his  hands  in  glad  refrain  : 
"Nor  moons  like  these  shall  shine  again !" 

This  is  the  man  I  seek  to  praise. 

These  are  his  sorrows  and  his  ways — 

A  man  of  noble  mien  and  mood. 

Who  reached  the  shore  and  then  boohooed. 

T  mailed  my  poem  to  a  leading  magazine,  and  smiled 
after  I  went  to  sleep.  I'll  wake  up  in  ten  days  and  find 
myself  famous,  T  thought :  if  not,  let  me  die  the  death 


154  Good  Gumption 

of  the  disappointed.  A  hundred  thousand  readers 
would  suddenly  open  their  eyes  to  behold  a  new  comet. 
Who's  Heredity  Beans?  would  ask  men  rushing  to 
business,  women  in  their  parlors,  children  at  play. 
My  fortune  I  considered  made ;  all  respectable  editors 
now  would  tap  at  my  door  with  golden  knuckles.  My 
facile  pen  henceforth  would  know  no  respite.  Next  I 
would  write  a  book  of  poems;  then  I  would  build  a 
castle  on  the  Mississippi ! 

In  order  that  the  reader  may  know  how  it  all  came 
out,  I  give  herewith  the  literature  connected  with  the 
publication  of  this  poem.  I  cannot  comment  on  it 
now,  for  my  feelings  are  very  deep  even  to  this  day. 

Editor  of  "The  Sun  Burst." 

My  dear  Sir:  I  send  you  by  this  mail  my  new  drama 
in  verse,  entitled  "A  Divine  Comedy."  I  imagine 
price  will  be  no  item  with  you.  No  doubt  you  will 
not  care  to  let  any  other  species  of  verse  appear  in 
the  same  number.  I  can't  promise  to  fly  so  high 
every  time,  and  I  will  not  engage  to  furnish  a  poem 
for  every  issue.  Give  the  minor  poets  a  chance ; 
don't  let  me  monopolize  the  magazine. 

Check  on  New  York,  please. 
Yours,  in  ars  poetica,  H.  Beans. 

Mr.  H.  Beans. 

Dear  Sir:  Your  poem  received ;  it  has  merit,  but  we 
have  engaged  all  the  poetry  we  shall  need  for  the 
rest  of  our  earthly  career.  We  return  the  MS. 
with  thanks. 

With  esteem,  H.  I.  Larity, 

Editor  of  "The  Sun  Burst." 

Editor  of  "The  Weekly  Comet." 

My  dear  Sir:  I  herewith  inclose  you  a  dramatic 
poem  that  will  startle  the  literary  world.     It  is  rich 


Starting  in   Lite  155 

in  imagery,  elegant  in  diction,  original  in  conception, 
and — invahiable  in  money.  I  am  not  afraid  to  let  you 
put  your  own  price  on  it,  since  I  know  your  high 
appreciation  of  the  poetic  art.  I  cannot  engage  to 
furnish  another  poem  under  a  week.  If  }our  cir- 
culation jumps  up  a  few  thousands,  you  will  know 
why.  Please  make  remittance  by  check  or  regis- 
tered letter. 

Yours  in  the  bonds  of  poesy,  H.  Beans. 

Mr.  H.  Beans. 

Dear  Sir:  Your  verses  received.  They  have  a  vein 
of  genuine  humor ;  but  my  columns  are  overcrowded, 
and  hence  I  cannot  use  them.  There  is  a  rare  treat 
for  some  periodical  that  is  not  so  unfortunately  handi- 
capped. The  poem  is  simply  invaluable,  and  I'm 
sure  my  life  will  be  shortened  at  least  a  year  because 
I  cannot  adorn  my  pages  with  it.  I  would  like  to  see 
it  in  print.     The  MS.  is  herewith  returned. 

Affectionately  yours,  I.  R.  Onical, 

Editor  of  "The  Weekly  Comet." 

Editor  of  "The  Magna  Charta." 

My  dear  Sir:  Inclosed  please  find  a  little  poem, 
which  I  shall  not  attempt  to  describe.  Though  a 
stranger,  I  am  sure  you  will  hereafter  take  me  into 
your  most  intimate  friendship  forever.  The  poem 
is  so  inwrought  with  pathos,  that  I  shall  associate 
no  money  value  therewith,  but  present  it  to  your 
readers  as  an  offering  of  love. 

Yours,  with  a  poet's  devotion,  H.  Beans. 

Mr.  H.  Bean.s. 

Dear  Sir:  Your  comedy  received.  Sorry  we  can- 
not avail  ourselves  of  it.     Please  find  MS.  inclosed. 

Truly  yours,  John  Shorthorse, 

Editor  of  "Magna  Charta." 

"The  American  Jester." 

I  send  you  a  copy  of  my  poem,  hoping  you  may 


156  Good  Gumption 

find  a  place  therefor  in  your  columns.     No  charge. 
Yours  truly,  H.  Beans. 

Mr.  H.  Beans. 

Sir:  We   shall   be   delighted   to   insert   your   poem 

in  our  next  issue.     It  will  cost  }Ou  $2.50  in  advance. 

If  this  is  not  satisfactory,  please  forward  stamp  for 

return  of  M.S. 

Yours,  etc., 

J.   O.   Kerr,   "American   Jester." 

If  this  correspondence  does  not  indicate  heathen- 
ism, I  don't  know  what  heathenism  is.  Such  igno- 
rance !  such  indifference  to  art !  such  lunacy !  While 
my  masterpiece  of  poesy  was  being  assaulted  by  these 
anarchists  of  journalism,  and  the  money  I  had  earned 
by  overwrought  brains  was  being  denied  me,  I  was 
arrested  for  taxes.    My  poetic  functions  ceased. 

Of  course,  medicine  suggested  itself  next.  What  a 
grand  study — man !  T  got  my  mother's  old  medical 
book  from  the  shelf  and  began  my  studies.  I  bought 
a  secondhand  male  skeleton  from  the  family  physi- 
cian, and  borrowed  a  book  on  physiology'.  My  atten- 
tion was  directed  first  to  the  skeleton's  teeth.  I  exam- 
ined critically  the  molars,  bicuspids,  and  others  that  re- 
mained in  the  mouth,  and  approximated  his  age  at 
ninety-seven  years.  I  next  measured  him  and  com- 
puted his  height  as  six  feet  seven  inches.  I  became 
intensely  interested.  I  next  weighed  the  bones,  and 
decided  that  the  man  in  full  flesh  nutst  have  weighed 
four  hundred  and  eighty  pounds.  I  examined  the  ac- 
tion of  the  right  arm,  and  discovered  it  was  susceptible 
of  a  graceful,  rotary  motion,  such  as  is  employed  by  a 
minister  in  turning  his  manuscript  or  making  a  ges- 


Starting  in  Life  157 

ture.  His  knees  indicated  prayer — why,  of  course — 
he  was  a  preacher.  I  then  looked  through  the  eye- 
sockets,  and.  beholding  the  immense  cavities  on  either 
side  of  the  head,  set  him  down  for  an  illustrious 
bishop. 

Having  become  quite  familiar  with  the  bones  of  my 
distinguished  subject,  I  pored  o\'er  physiology,  study- 
ing bones,  muscles,  tissues,  nerves,  blood  vessels,  cap- 
illary tubes,  chyle,  and  a  thousand  other  things  I  hope 
never  to  hear  of  again,  until  my  first  course  was  ended. 
My  second  course  of  study  was  in  the  drugs  and  ma- 
terials of  which  medicine  is  made.  A  gilded  dawn 
rose  on  me  now.  T  moved  among  elixirs,  fluid  com- 
pounds, powders,  pills,  and  plasters.  T  calculated  how 
many  varieties  of  pills  could  be  prepared  from  the 
many  elements,  and  found  their  name — and  their  num- 
ber too — was  legion,  ^^'hat  an  infinite  number  of  liver 
regulators  might  be  compounded !  How  vast  a  field 
for  speculation  and  ingenuity!  Bitters  ad  infinituni: 
liver  pads  ad  absiirdiiin.  Endless  cough  drops  and 
baby  syrups.  Joyful  prospect  for  an  inventive  turn 
of  mind. 

I  told  some  of  my  friends  that  I  was  studying  medi- 
cine and  was  requested  to  inform  them  the  name  of  the 
college  wherein  I  was  prosecuting  my  labors.  This 
set  me  to  thinking,  for  the  only  college  in  which  I  was 
enrolled  was  that  at  the  head  of  which  was  Professor 
Heredity  Beans.  Should  I  go  to  one  of  the  medical 
institutions  doing  btisiness  in  various  sections  of  the 
country  or  should  T  continue  my  studies  at  home  in 
Shakerag  ? 

After  all.  what  was  the  use  of  spending  a  lot  of 


158  Good  Gumption 

money  and  where  was  I  to  get  it  to  spend?  Why 
couldn't  I  do  as  well  in  my  attic  with  mother's  old 
doctor  book  until  I  had  become  the  compounder  and 
proprietor  of  a  first-class  patent  medicine?  After  that, 
when  I  had  made  enough  money  to  maintain  myself  I 
would  be  able  to  choose  the  best  medical  college  in  the 
country  as  my  mine  of  information  and  then  after 
graduation  open  up  a  college  for  the  instruction  of 
other  followers  of  the  healing  art. 

The  patent  medicine  idea  struck  me  as  being  a  par- 
ticularly good  one.  Think  of  the  many  thousands  and 
thousands  of  suffering  persons  I  would  be  able  to  cure, 
relieve,  and  benefit!  Of  course,  some  of  the  people 
who  might  take  my  medicine  for  cancer,  or  consump- 
tion, or  insanity  might  die,  but  then,  I  figured  out, 
they  would  die  anyway,  and  really  my  remedy  might 
do  them  some  little  good  and  keep  them  alive  a  little 
while  longer.  And  even  at  that,  it  would  not  be  can- 
cer, consumption,  or  insanity  that  I  would  seek  to  cure, 
and  so  if  they  took  the  medicine  that  I  patented  it  was 
their  own  fault,  and  I  couldn't  be  blamed. 

Three  weeks  having  elapsed  since  I  entered  upon 
my  medical  studies,  I  felt  confident  I  was  prepared  for 
the  active  duties  of  my  profession.  The  first  step  was 
to  compound  a  patent  medicine.  Early  one  morning 
I  found  myself  surrounded  by  bottles  of  different  sizes, 
with  twenty-five  cents'  worth  of  drugs  in  my  pocket. 
By  nightfall  and  with  the  consistent  use  of  my  drugs 
and  plenty  of  good  pump  water  my  bottles  were  full 
and  I  was  ready  to  do  some  advertising.  Cogitation 
resulted  in  an  announcement  to  the  public  which  I  re- 
produce on  the  following  page : 


Why  Don't  You  Use 

BEANS'  BIPED  BITTERS 

This  Medicine  is  Nature's  Remedy,  and  the  Grcaest  Discovery  of  Modern 

Stuencc,     It  h«s  never  failed  to  cure  every  disease  to  which  the 

flesh  is  heir.     It  is  perfectly  harmless,  and  warranted  to 

give  immediate  and  permanent  relief  in  all  dis-* 

orders  arising  from  derangements  of 

the  liver,  blood,  kidneys,  etc. 

DIRECTIONS  FOR  USE 

For  Headache,  look  at  the  bottle  with  one  eye. 
For  Neuralgia,  look  at  it  with  the  other  eye. 
For  Rheuniatism,  jump  over  it. 
For  Cramp  Colic,  swallow  it. 
For  Dyspepsia,  soak  the  dyspepsia  in  It. 
For  Cold,  boil  the  cold  in  it. 
For  Chills,  gently  remove  the  stopper. 
For  Blues,  give  a  dose  to  your  mother-in-law. 
For  Hums,  hang  it  up  the  chimney. 
For  Toothache,  smell  it. 

For  all  other  ailments,  take  a  tablespoonful  every 
seven  minutes  while  sleeping. 

$5,000  Reward  for  a  Well-Authenticated  Case 

OF  Failure 

LNDORSED  BY  THE  CLERGY  EVERYWHERE 

PRICE !  Half^pint  bottle,  25  cents?  pint  bottle,  50 

cents;  quart,  $1, 

UNSOLICITED  TESTIMONIALS 

"Splendi!" — W.  Shakesf'farf,  "Supcrl'!" — C/iris/of/n-r  Co/iimluis.  "I  indorse 
the  above." — (  !■  opalra.  "  So  do  I." — i\ ebuciiadiiezzar.  "  Ditto.'  — Jupiter  Olyintus. 
"It  sure  does  more  tli.in  it  claims."— ^fa«  Jj'Aic.  "The  wondtr  of  the  age."  — 
J\ohiiisoii  Crusoe.  "  The  jflory  of  the  world."— ^/hZ/V^t  C(e-nr,  "Wouldn't  be  \- ilh- 
out  it  fo'  $:;o." — ^f.  T.  Ctci-ro.  "  Wouldn't  have  committed  suicide  if  I  had  had  it." 
—  Hannibal.     "  I  died  at  St.  Helena  because  I  couldn't  get  it." — .V.  Bonaparte, 

INDORSED  BY  LEADING  DRUGGISTS  THROUGHOUT 

THE  UNION,  AMONG  WHOM  APE  THE  FOLx 

LOWING  WELL-KNOWN  FIRMS 

Beaumont  &   Fletcher;   Castor  &   Pollux;   Scylla  &  Charybdis; 

Esau   tV  Jacob;  Shadrach,  Meshach  &   Co.;  Arcturus  i^  Sons; 

Damon  I'v:  Pythias  Co.,  Incorporated;  and  John  Bull  i*C  Bros. 


160  Good  Gumption 

This  advertisement,  inserted  in  half  a  dozen  leading 
papers,  brought  me  a  cart-load  of  orders  the  first  seven 
days.  My  very  success,  however,  disheartened  me. 
I  was  ashamed  of  being  a  member  of  the  human  race, 
for  it  became  quite  clear  to  me  that  the  world  is  a  vast 
fool  asylum,  kept  by  a  few  sane  individuals  here  and 
there.  As  ^the  orders  were  C.  O.  D.,  no  money  was 
lost  by  the  senders,  and  no  medicine  sent  by  the  pro- 
prietor. I  quit  doctoring,  resolving  forever  to  lead 
"the  simple  life." 

The  most  ample  field  that  now  opened  up  to  me  was 
that  of  invention.  What  fortunes  had  been  made  by  a 
trick  of  the  imagination!  What  millions  in  money 
had  rolled  out  of  a  first-class  lucky  thought !  So  I  be- 
gan the  arduous  career  of  an  inventor. 

It  was  twelve  o'clock  at  night  when,  by  the  light  of 
a  tallow  candle,  I  put  the  finishing  touch  to  my  Re- 
volving Corkscrew.  Next  morning  at  peep  of  day  I 
stealthily  boxed  up  the  model  and  drawings,  and  sent 
them  by  express  to  Ima  Lummox,  patent  attorney,  in 
Washington,  to  ascertain  whether  the  invention  could 
be  patented,  although  it  was  unnecessary  to  put  such 
an  interrogation,  since,  as  I  learned  subsequently,  no 
invention,  no  matter  what  its  aim  or  value,  ever  has 
failed  to  be  patented.  Sometimes  it  is  true,  there  are 
a  great  many  reserves,  qualifications,  and  limitations, 
but  sooner  or  later,  the  United  States  Government 
grants  ''valuable  letters  patent."  The  attorney,  there- 
fore, returned  answer  that  in  his  opinion  the  invention 
was  patentable,  and  for  the  consideration  of  $15  as  a 
preliminary  payment  he  would  open  the  case. 

Two  months  of  anxious  and  sleepless  nights  passed 


Starting  in  Life  161 

away  before  my  agent  in  Washington  informed  me 
that  the  patent  had  been  granted,  and  that  it  would  be 
highly  appropriate  to  forward  to  his  address  the  bal- 
ance of  the  fees  for  himself  and  the  Government.  In 
a  few  days  came  my  Letters  Patent,  adorned  with 
much  blue  ribbon  and  bearing  the  authoritative  seal 
of  the  United  States  of  America,  containing  this  au- 
gust passage:  "Now  therefore  these  Letters  Patent 
are  to  grant  unto  the  said  Heredity  Beans,  his  heirs, 
or  assigns,  for  a  term  of  seventeen  years,  the  exclu- 
sive right  to  make,  use,  and  vend  the  said  invention 
throughout  the  United  States  and  Territories  thereof." 

This  w^as  almost  too  much  for  my  system,  already 
impaired  by  the  excessive  mental  labor  expended  in 
the  process  of  invention,  and  still  further  weakened 
by  the  excitement  occasioned  by  so  vast  an  enterprise. 
Think  of  it,  I  thought.  This  great  repul^lic  confers 
upon  me  privileges  it  confers  upon  no  other  man.  I 
am  the  only  man  in  the  universe  that  can  make  or  sell, 
in  these  United  States,  revolving  corkscrews  for  the 
space  of  seventeen  years.  Fifty  millions  of  people  are 
forbidden  by  law  to  infringe  my  rights,  and  the  army 
and  navy  of  the  United  States  are  ready  to  defend  my 
invention.  It  is  in  my  power  to  arraign  any  member 
of  Congress,  to  sue  Vanderbilt,  or  to  indict  the  Presi- 
dent himself  for  invading  my  prerogatives.  States 
and  territories  to  the  extent  of  four  million  square 
miles  subject  to  my  control — from  the  St.  Lawrence 
to  the  Rio  Grande ! 

Of  course,  these  telling  facts  made  due  impression 

on  the  people  of  Toadville,  who  considered  my  fortune 

made,  and  regarded  me  as  a  genius  of  the  first  order, 
II 


162  Good  Gumption 

being  the  only  man  who  ever  had  obtained  a  patent  in 
that  vicinity.  I  became  at  once  a  personage  of  great 
prominence.  I  received  invitations  to  all  the  barbe- 
cues that  took  place  in  the  community,  was  called  on 
to  make  speeches  at  all  public  gatherings,  and  on  St. 
Valentine's  Day  I  was  honored  with  a  sweet  verse  or 
a  bouquet  from  every  girl  in  Toadville.  Three  widows 
sent  me  a  lock  of  their  hair.  When  I  rode  into  town,  a 
dozen  boys  vied  with  each  other  in  being  first  to  tie 
Bucephalus,  while  strong  men  held  their  brawny  hands 
to  catch  my  feet  as  I  dropped  from  my  saddle;  and 
when  I  went  to  church,  sweet  singers  urged  me  into 
the  choir,  as  mothers  in  Israel  piled  up  hymnals 
around  me,  causing  me  to  rejoice  in  the  luxury  of 
greatness. 

Meantime  matters  were  not  dull  at  Shakerag.  My 
father's  cup  was  running  over,  and  occasionally  his 
ecstasy  attained  such  heights  that  he  proclaimed  my 
invention  one  of  the  signs  prophecy  had  set  apart  as  a 
forerunner  of  the  Millennium.  He  had  used  up  a 
gross  of  pencils  calculating  the  financial  value  of  my 
venture,  and,  after  he  had  arrived  at  a  conclusion,  he 
declared  that  the  figures  were  too  moderate.  Father 
said  he  had  always  seen  something  of  the  sort  in  me, 
and  was  expecting  just  such  a  result.  I  was  a  chip  off 
the  old  block,  he  asserted,  and  inherited  my  inventive 
talent  from  him,  since  he  himself  once  had  invented  a 
reversible  toothpick,  though  he  never  had  applied  for 
a  patent.  Thenceforth  he  sought  to  show  his  appre- 
ciation of  my  genius,  and  to  reward  my  toil,  by  mak- 
ing me  sit  at  the  foot  of  the  table  and  appropriate  the 
gizzard.     I  found  him  one  sultry  evening,  with  his 


Startinir  in   Lite  163 

coat  off,  silling-  on  ihc  rool  of  a  tree,  figuring-  ve- 
hemently and  talking-  to  himself  with  great  anima- 
tion. 

"Red,  old  boy,"  he  said,  his  eyes  sparkling,  "how  do 
these  figures  sound  to  people  that  have  been  living  on 
collards  and  buttermilk  all  their  days?  See  here. 
There  are  fifty  millions  of  people  in  the  United  States ; 
(luring  the  seventeen  years  of  your  patent  right  they 
will  buy,  on  an  average,  one  each ;  that  will  bring,  at 
$1.50  per  screw,  $75,000,000.  Then  Congress,  during 
that  period,  will  need  a  million  more,  say  $1,500,000. 
Canada,  Mexico,  Central  America,  and  South  Ameri- 
ca will  take  about  ten  million  screws,  say  $15,000,000; 
Europe,  Asia,  and  Africa  will  have  to  be  supplied  from 
the  United  States  with  some  eighty  million  (for  every 
wine-bibber  and  beer-drinker  in  Europe  will  want  a 
couple),  say,  $120,000,000. 

"Now,  Red,  old  boy,  you  see,  at  these  moderate  fig- 
ures, it  runs  up  to  over  $2 1 1 ,000,000,  leaving  out  Aus- 
tralia and  all  the  islands  of  the  sea.  Why,  boy;  you 
can  put  it  down  at  the  very  lowest  at  $250,000,000 — 
moderate  at  that,  my  son,  very  moderate — some  people 
would  write  down  a  billion  at  once.  Your  old  dad  has 
dug  his  last  potato,  made  his  last  corn-hill,  and  cut  his 
last  log  of  wood ;  and  the  old  woman  will  never  patch 
another  calico  this  side  of  the  moon.  Silks!  stove- 
pipes !  canes !  double-case  gold  Elgins !  coach  and  four ! 
mansards  and  broadcloth !" 

Promising  the  old  gentleman  $40,000,000,  I  set 
about  to  sell  the  right  to  make  the  Beans  Revolving 
Corkscrew.  Agents  in  Cincinnati,  St.  Louis,  Chicago, 
New  York,  Philadelphia,  and  in  fact  in  almost  every 


164  Good  Gumption 

large  city  in  the  United  States,  offered  their  services 
toward  eft'ecting  a  sale  of  my  article.  They  all  claimed 
to  know  all  about  patent  matters,  and  each  swore  all 
the  rest  were  rascals — which  I  found  afterwards  to  be 
quite  true.  Yet  I  ventured  to  forward  $25  to  the  Great 
Western  Patent  Syndicate  (skindicate  would  be  more 
truthful),  located  in  Cincinnati,  as  a  sort  of  feeler — 
and  as  I  never  heard  again  from  said  $25,  I  have  been 
feeling  ever  since  that  the  villians  ought  to  be  made 
to  drink  hemp  tea  awhile.  I  next  inserted  a  cut  and 
advertisement  of  my  corkscrew  in  a  paper  devoted  to 
mechanics,  and  said  to  circulate  among  thirty-five 
thousand  people.  A  copy  of  the  periodical,  with  the 
advertisement  marked,  came  in  the  mail  one  morning, 
filling  me  with  supreme  delight ;  for  I  felt  satisfied  that 
the  invention  had  but  to  be  known  to  meet  with  a 
prompt  and  splendid  sale. 

Next  morning,  before  daylight,  I  was  in  Toad- 
ville  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  mail,  and  when  the 
letters  were  ready  for  delivery,  I  walked  into  the 
post  office  with  much  dignity  and  asked  for  my  mail, 
expecting  a  peck  of  bids  for  my  revolving  cork- 
screw. 

"Heredity  Beans,"  repeated  the  postmaster ;  ''noth- 
ing for  Mr.  Beans." 

Ah!  thought  I,  it  takes  time  to  sell  great  inventions. 
Just  let  a  week  pass,  and  you'll  see  capitalists  talking 
millions !  And  a  week  passed  by,  just  as  it  always  will 
if  you  give  it  time,  and  again  I  put  in  my  appearance 
at  Toadville  to  hear  from  parties  desirous  of  buying 
the  rights  to  deal  in  my  corkscrew  in  the  States  and 
Territories.     This  time  T  was  accompanied  by  father, 


Starting  in  Life  165 

who  thought  it  necessary  to  bring  a  large  meal-sack 
to  hold  the  letters. 

Again  the  postmaster  solemnly  averred  there  were 
"no  letters  for  Beans."  Father  sighed  and  turned 
pale,  while  I  myself  felt  a  little  melancholy.  But,  said 
I,  inaudibly,  this  corkscrew  business  is  a  big  thing. 
Minnows  can't  tackle  such  bait;  we  must  wait  for 
whales.  So  I  waited  languidly  two  weeks  longer,  when 
the  postmaster  cried  out  laconically,  "Letter  for 
Beans."  Dear  man,  I  wanted  to  hug  him.  Father 
clapped  his  hands  and  seized  the  letter,  which  he  in- 
sisted on  carrying  himself,  while  neither  of  us  was 
willing  to  open  the  communication  of  millions  until 
^ve  reached  the  sacred  precincts  of  Shakerag. 

"Old  boy,"  said  father,  "if  this  fellow  offers  $20,- 
000,000  for  a  State,  we'll  just  double  on  him ;  for  he's 
not  going  to  offer  a  third  of  what  he  thinks  it's  worth. 
He's  l)ound  to  have  it.  Why,  even  little  Rhode  Island 
would  be  dirt  cheap  at  $35,000,000." 

We  opened  the  letter,  reading  as  follows : 

Mr.  II.  Beans,  Inventor. 

Dear  Sir:  I  will  pay  a  dollar  and  a  half  for  the  right 
to  sell  your  Revolving  Screw  in  Phinx  County,  this 
State,  if  you  will  furnish  the  manufactured  article  at 
five  cents  each,  express  prepaid. 

Respectfully,  Washington   Seed. 

"That's  but  a  dodge,"  said  I,  to  father.  "This  fel- 
low Seed  is  some  man  of  giant  fortune  trying  to  draw 
me  out.  He  sees  a  billion  or  two  in  the  thing,  and  is 
endeavoring  not  to  commit  himself." 

Father  said  nothing,  but  for  some  cause  went  with- 


166  Good  Gumption 

out  dinner  that  day,  while  I  answered  Washington  as 
follows : 

Mr.  W.  Seed. 

My  dear  Sir:  I  am  glad  you  appreciate  the  merits 
of  my  corkscrew  and  desire  to  become  rich  and  fa- 
mous by  connection  with  it,  I  do  not  sell  county 
rights,  because  they  would  not  bring  more  than  $20,- 
000,  and  I  do  not  care  to  handle  such  small  amounts. 
As  your  State  is  small,  I'll  knock  it  off  to  you  at  four 
million.  Write  by  return  mail,  or  this  golden  oppor- 
tunity may  be  lost  forever,  since  I  may  have  a  dozen 
applications  before  to-morrow  night. 

Truly  yours,  H.   Beans. 

Weeks  and  months  fled  by,  yet  no  letter  came  from 
Seed.  Poor  deluded  noodle!  I  wrote  inquiring  for 
the  cause  of  such  stolid  indifference  to  his  own  best 
interests,  but  Seed  was  blind  to  the  allurements  of  for- 
tune. T  told  him  that,  in  order  to  get  the  invention 
started,  I'd  sell  his  State  rights  for  $100,000;  but  the 
fellow  was  insensible  still.  Then  I  made  the  amazing 
offer  to  sell  the  whole  United  States  right  for  $100,- 
000.  Still  no  reply.  At  last  I  invited  him  to  suggest 
what  he  would  give  for  the  entire  right  or  any  part 
thereof,  and  the  ungracious  clodhopper  wrote  back 
that  there  was  no  demand  for  a  new  corkscrew.  So, 
after  weary  waiting  and  watching  and  trusting  for 
two  years,  I  committed  my  model  to  the  flames,  and 
now  I  never  permit  the  word  "corkscrew"  to  be  ut- 
tered in  my  presence.  Father's  health  began  to  fail 
after  the  reception  of  Seed's  letter,  and  "things  are  not 
what  they  seem" — especially  patents. 

Yes,  dear  reader,  your  friend  Heredity  Beans  is  of 


Starting  in  Life  167 

the  opinion  that  patents  are  a  snare  and  a  delusion. 
There  never  yet  was  a  patent  over  which  somebody 
didn't  get  swindled,  somehow  or  other,  and  the  only 
person  that  doesn't  lose  any  money  over  them  is  the 
patent  attorney.  If  the  man  who  invents  the  inven- 
tion doesn't  have  it  stolen  from  him  before  he  gets  it 
patented  the  attorney  robs  him  while  he  is  getting  it 
through  the  Patent  Office.  The  inventor  then  pro- 
ceeds to  get  square  by  robbing  the  public  by  making 
it  pay  for  the  patented  article  about  ten  times  what  it 
is  actually  worth. 

The  whole  business  is  a  gigantic  swindle  from  start 
to  finish,  and  the  surest  way  for  the  ordinary  mortal 
to  go  "plumb  crazy"  or  "plumb  broke"  is  to  get  a  pa- 
tent. The  advice  of  Heredity  Beans  to  all  patent  seek- 
ers is  to  burn  either  the  model  of  the  patent  or  the 
money  the  lawyer  wants  for  getting  it.  Personally,  I 
prefer  the  first  method  for  the  matter  then  is  finally 
and  thoroughly  settled.  Still,  the  latter  way  has  its 
charms  for  those  who  want  to  live  up  to  the  axiom  that 
a  fool  and  his  cash  are  soon  parted.  Besides,  it's  spec- 
tacular. 


BLINDFOLDED    JUSTICE 


Chapter   XIV. 


On  a  commanding  pinnacle  of  the  courthouse  at 
Toadville  stood  a  sufficiently  accurate  reproduction  of 
the  celebrated  statue  of  Justice,  in  which  the  goddess 
is  seen  standing  blindfolded,  holding  a  pair  of  scales 
in  one  hand  and  a  naked  sword  in  the  other.  To  a  few 
eccentric  people  it  may  seem  more  appropriate  for 
Justice,  above  all  the  gods,  to  have  her  eyes  wide  open, 
and  see  what's  going  on  in  this  crooked  world  of  ours ; 
but  more  discerning  persons  readily  perceive  the  apt- 
ness of  the  statue  as  it  now  stands,  when  they  remem- 
ber that  the  legal  fraternity  acts  so  largely  upon  the 
principle  of  going  it  blind 

Still,  it  was  of  little  consequence  to  Turnipins  wheth- 
er Justice  could  see  or  not.  His  own  vision  was  in- 
tact, which  fact  he  successfully  demonstrated  by  pur- 
loining a  goose  on  one  of  the  darkest  nights  that  ever 
swaddled  Toadville.  Of  course,  suspicion  fell  upon 
him,  for  like  his  renowned  ancestor,  Barabbas,  he  was 
known  to  be  a  thief  and  a  robber ;  and  he  was  arrested 
in  consequence  of  the  appropriated  bird  having  been 
found  in  his  possession. 

The  case  came  up  one  Tuesday  of  court  week,  la- 
beled, "The  State  vs.  Turnipins."  It  seemed  to  me, 
unused  as  I  was  to  the  idiosvncrasies  of  impartial,  un- 
(i68) 


Blindfolded  Justice  169 

adulterated,  simon-pure,  blindfolded  Justice,  that  the 
contest  was  quite  an  unequal  one,  since  the  State  with 
all  her  resources  was  one  party,  and  a  hump-backed 
rogue  the  other.  But  the  delusion  was  dispelled  when 
I  saw  the  representative  of  Its  Majesty  the  Common- 
wealth, in  the  person  of  a  third-rate  advocate,  who 
had  the  apperance  of  a  dandy  rather  than  that  of  a 
gentleman  of  legal  acumen.  He  seemed  to  have  made 
a  bandbox  his  boarding  house,  a  moistened  brush  his 
chief  industrial  implement,  while  his  necktie  and  mus- 
tache were  his  most  honored  tutelary  divinities. 

Withal,  the  same  Christopher  Columbus  Pufif  was 
by  nature  invested  with  a  series  of  gestures  resembling 
the  gyrations  of  the  crank  of  a  windlass  in  its  last 
stages  of  usefulness,  besides  a  voice  which  might  have 
been  taken  for  the  screeching  of  a  buggy  with  un- 
greased  axles.  I  understood  that  it  was  usual  to  con- 
cede to  fledgelings  who  could  repeat  with  tolerable 
fluency  the  expression,  "Please  your  Honor,"  the  posi- 
tion of  Commonwealth's  attorney,  as  a  sort  of  intro- 
duction to  business ;  and  moreover,  that  counselors  of 
ripe  attainments  found  it  more  lucrative  to  shelter 
vice  than  to  expose  it. 

But  it  was  rather  an  odd  picture,  I  confess :  a  cal- 
low stripling,  of  mediocre  parts,  whose  ideas  of  jus- 
tice were  about  as  clear  as  the  material  of  which  babes 
make  mud  pies,  representing  the  honor,  the  integrity, 
the  virtue,  the  justice  of  a  grand  old  Commonwealth, 
while  just  opposite  sat  a  dozen  attorneys,  represent- 
ing the  learning,  the  abilit}^  the  experience,  the  influ- 
ence of  the  legal  profession,  to  defend  a  rogue.  Sub- 
lime travesty  on  justice — a  little  squint-eyed,  pomaded 


170  Good  Gumption 

plodder,  with  a  squeaking  voice,  to  maintain  the 
changeless  and  eternal  right,  and  the  whole  legal  fra- 
ternity concatenated  to  protect  rascality.  No  wonder 
the  great  Hottentot  poet,  Hulla  Balloo,  exclaimed,  in 
his  splendid  apostrophe  to  Sham,  when  the  thermom- 
eter stood  at  two  hundred  and  thirteen  degrees  in  the 
shade, 

O  Villainy,  thou  kickest  up  thy  heels  with  impunity. 

Turnipins  having  taken  his  seat  at  the  bar,  sur- 
rounded by  a  host  of  happy  lawyers  of  the  finest  abil- 
ity, the  august  ceremony  of  impaneling  the  jury  be- 
gan. Dr.  Ashpole,  a  physician  of  good  standing, 
stepped  up,  kissed  the  Bible,  and  swore  to  do  his  best, 
which  would  have  satisfied  me,  at  least. 

"Witness,"  the  sherifif  challenges,  "look  upon  the 
prisoner ;  prisoner,  look  upon  the  witness ;  do  you  like 
him  ?" 

"No,"  the  counsel  for  the  defense  answers.  Exit 
Ashpole. 

Several  merchants,  mechanics,  and  farmers  were 
offered  as  jurors,  but,  notwithstanding  their  reputa- 
tion for  integrity,  wisdom,  and  understanding  of  the 
law,  were  promptly  and  emphatically  rejected. 

Next  walked  up  a  set  of  individuals,  led  by  one  Bod- 
kins, who  was  certain  to  be  on  hand  for  uncertain 
cases,  and  whose  services  no  doubt  received  a  certain 
remuneration.  Bodkins  kissed  the  Bible,  and  in  a 
saintly  way  swore  impartial  justice.  Now  the  same 
Bodkins  had  a  bloated  face  and  red  nose,  and  a  large 
number  of  unpaid  accounts,  which  from  all  accounts 


Blindfolded  Justice  171 

he  never  intended  to  pay,  and  withal  kept  a  low  tavern 
on  Slime  Alley,  Doodle  Town. 

''Do  you  like  him?"  asked  the  sheriff. 

"I  love  him,"  responded  the  defense,  and  Bodkins 
became  a  juror. 

Then  came  Jake  Garlic,  a  professional  juror  and 
loafer,  who  had  long  enjoyed  the  reputation  of  being 
the  most  accomplished  prevaricator  in  Toadville. 

"Do  you  like  him?"  softly  and  hopefully  inquired 
the  sheriff. 

'T  adore  him,"  said  the  defense,  whereupon  Garlic 
became  a  juror  too.  So  at  length,  by  rejecting  every 
man  whose  countenance  indicated  that  he  neither 
would  steal  a  goose  nor  eat  one  that  had  been  stolen, 
the  jury  was  made  up;  and  the  spotless  twelve  took 
their  seats  to  sit  in  judgment  on  Turnipins. 

The  bill  of  indictment  next  was  read,  charging  the 
prisoner  at  the  bar  with  stealing  a  goose;  but,  since  in 
law  great  stress  is  laid  upon  the  right  use  of  words, 
the  bill  opened  a  wide  field  for  debate.  The  counsel 
for  the  defense  consumed  no  less  than  three  days  in 
seeking  to  show,  by  learned  and  lengthy  arguments, 
that  the  fowl  found  in  Turnipins'  possession  was  not 
a  goose  at  all,  but  a  gosling,  and  that,  in  consequence, 
the  bill  was  in  error.  Competent  experts  were  intro- 
duced to  show  that  the  bird  had  not  passed  out  of  the 
gosling  state,  and  the  matter  was  finally  settled  by  the 
testimony  of  one  \A'hiskison,  who  swore  that  the  fowl 
could  not  be  a  goose  until  it  had  teeth. 

The  case,  having  been  dismissed  on  this  account, 
came  up  at  the  next  term  of  the  court,  the  indictment 
clerk  substitutinsr  aroslinsf  for  gfoose.    The  defense  re- 


172  Good  Gumption 

quired  only  two  days  and  a  half  this  time  to  prove  that 
the  bill  was  again  improperly  drawn,  since  the  bird 
was  not  a  gosling,  as  all  might  plainly  see,  but  a  grown 
fowl. 

The  Commonwealth's  attorney,  Mr.  Puff,  in  reply, 
pufTed  away  eight  hours  to  destroy  the  arguments  ad- 
duced by  the  opposition ;  and,  when  he  proved  conclu- 
sively that  the  bird  had  no  teeth,  and  was  hence,  by 
Whiskison's  own  previous  testimony,  a  gosling,  he 
seemed  to  be  sailing  on  prosperous  waters.  But  the 
defense  quickly  swore  the  said  Whiskison  again,  and 
by  him  showed  convincingly  that  the  goose  once  had 
possessed  teeth,  but,  owing  to  long  confinement  and 
grief,  had  lost  them,  the  witness  testifying  that  he 
frequently  had  known  such  cases.  As  the  bill  of  in- 
dictment was  demonstrated  to  be  incorrectly  worded, 
using  gosling  where  it  should  have  used  goose,  there, 
of  course,  was  no  trial,  and  the  prisoner  was  released 
until  the  indictment  mill  could  get  to  work  again. 

Next  term  of  the  court,  Turnipins  was  again  on 
hand,  charged  with  stealing  a  goose.  The  prosecuting 
attorney,  deeming  himself  now  master  of  the  situation, 
stroked  his  mustache  complacently,  as  a  man  who  had 
but  to  crack  the  whip  of  argument  and  drive  the  char- 
iot of  Justice  triumphantly  along  the  serpentine  paths 
of  law.  But  the  opposing  counsel  set  to  work  at  once 
to  demolish  a  third  time  the  unfortunate  bill,  and  in 
an  argument  lasting  two  days  proved  that  the  fowl 
alleged  to  have  been  stolen  was  not  a  goose,  but  a  gan- 
der. 

Pufif,  however,  having  a  good  constitution,  bore  his 
legal  reverses  manfully,  and  resolved  to  try  his  hand 


Blindfolded  Justice  173 

once  more  on  the  preparation  of  a  bill  that  would  go 
through.  Accordingly  Turnipins  sat  before  the  judge 
at  the  next  term  of  court,  indicted  for  stealing  a  "bird 
of  the  feathered  tribe,  called  in  common  parlance  a 
gander,  which  term  denoted  a  fowl  of  the  masculine 
gender."  The  lovers  of  justice,  and  particularly  the 
loser  of  the  goose,  congratulated  Puff  on  the  strong 
wording  of  the  bill,  and  all  hands  looked  for  a  speedy 
trial  and  a  glorious  justification  of  justice. 

After  the  reading  of  the  indictment,  the  counsel  for 
the  defense  labored  a  week  to  demonstrate  that  the 
fowl  in  question  was  not  a  gander,  but  a  capon.  This 
having  been  pretty  well  established,  a  new  indictment 
seemed  inevitable,  but  the  judge  came  to  the  Common- 
wealth's relief  by  ruling  that  a  gander  and  a  capon 
were  sufficiently  allied  to  admit  of  the  prosecution  of 
the  case  under  the  bill.  So,  after  the  lapse  of  four 
years,  the  State  was  prepared  to  prosecute  the  noto- 
rious poultry  thief. 

Attorney  Puff  presented  to  the  jury  in  behalf  of  the 
Commonwealth  the  following  cogent  arguments:  i. 
The  innkeeper,  the  party  from  whom  the  goose  had 
been  purchased,  and  the  hotel  cook,  identified  the  fowl 
found  with  Turnipins.  2.  Turnipins  did  not  raise 
geese,  and  reliable  w^itnesses  would  testify  that  up  to 
the  time  of  the  theft  he  had  no  goose  of  any  sort  on 
the  premises.  3.  On  the  night  of  the  theft,  Turnipins 
was  seen  in  the  back  yard  of  the  hotel,  but  did  not  re- 
port himself  as  on  any  business ;  and  on  the  same  night 
a  neighbor  saw  him  with  a  goose.  4.  Turnipins'  wife 
would  say  her  husband  told  her  he  got  the  goose  from 
the  innkeeper.     5.  Turnipins,  when  arrested,  denied 


174  Good  Gumption 

having  any  goose  on  the  place  notwithstanding  the 
goose  was  in  the  coop. 

The  testimony  on  which  the  sohcitor  based  his  ar- 
guments seemed  conclusive  when  it  was  delivered  un- 
til the  defense,  consisting  of  a  dozen  of  the  most 
astute  lawyers  in  the  State,  began  to  sift  it.  Nobody 
knows  how  a  case  in  court  will  go  until,  obedient  to 
the  maxim,  ''Audi  alteram  partem!'  he  has  heard  both 
sides,  top  and  bottom,  and  then,  if  the  matter  hinges 
on  the  verdict  of  a  jury,  it  would  be  just  as  fair  and 
expeditious  to  shut  both  eyes  and  draw  straws. 

The  counsel  for  the  defense  at  last  arose  and,  in  a 
bland,  seductive  manner  addressed  the  immaculate 
twelve. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,"  said  he,  gazing  fondly  at 
them ;  "we  esteem  it  the  happiest  privilege  of  our  life 
to  address  so  intelligent  and  respectable  a  body  of 
men.  Had  the  thronging  multitudes  of  the  spacious 
earth  been  sifted,  twelve  more  worthy,  honorable,  and 
patriotic  gentlemen  could  not  have  been  found.  And 
gentlemen,  you  are  this  day  called  upon  to  administer 
to  a  fellow-being  in  distress  impartial  justice,  and  thus 
to  exercise  the  proudest  prerogative  of  an  American 
citizen. 

"As  we  look  into  your  benevolent  faces,  and  dis- 
cover playing  there  emotions  welling  up  from  hearts 
of  compassion,  we  feel  safe  in  asserting  that  there  is 
not  a  man  among  you  that  would  so  transform  him- 
self into  a  brute  as  to  convict,  on  such  evidence,  this 
innocent  man  who  sits  sobbing  at  our  side.  Gentle- 
men, this  injured,  maligned,  persecuted  man,  appears 
before  you  to-day  to  face  in  open  court  his  enemies, 


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176    .  Good  Gumption 

displaying  the  fortitude  of  a  martyr  and  the  magna- 
nimity of  an  angel.  You  do  not  see  him  dodging  in 
fence  corners  or  fleeing  to  the  trackless  forests.  No, 
gentlemen ;  he  comes  with  the  boldness  of  a  hero  to 
beard  the  lion  in  his  den. 

"See,  sirs,  what  conscious  innocence  mantles  the 
countenance  of  the  prisoner  at  the  bar !  Why,  gentle- 
men, he  cannot  even  look  you  in  the  face  because  he 
feels  so  keenly  the  magnitude  of  his  reproach.  But, 
gentlemen,  as  the  morning  dew  vanishes  before  the 
rising  splendor  of  the  sun,  so  will  the  mists  of  slander 
and  suspicion  be  dispelled  from  the  character  of  the 
prisoner,  as  incontrovertible  evidence  pours  from  a 
cloudless  record  its  bright  floods  of  light  upon  his 
stainless  history.  And,  gentlemen,  our  noble  and 
beautiful  women  indorse,  as  you  see,  the  prisoner  at 
the  bar.  [Holds  up  a  dozen  nosegays  sent  by  some 
male  women.] 

"If  it  please  the  Court,  we  shall  present  the  follow- 
ing arguments  to  this  most  honorable  jury:  Now,  gen- 
tlemen, we  are  going  to  show  conclusively  that  pre- 
vious to  the  stealing  charged  against  the  prisoner,  no 
gander  ever  had  occupied  the  innkeeper's  coop ;  and  in 
proof  of  this  crushing  fact,  we  introduce  a  box  of 
feathers  carefully  collected  from  the  said  coop  the 
morning  after  the  alleged  theft.  The  last  feather  was 
raked  up,  and,  gentlemen,  here  they  are;  examine 
them  for  yourselves.  See,  gentlemen,  here  are  hen 
feathers,  rooster  feathers,  duck  feathers,  drake  feath- 
ers, guinea  feathers,  turkey  feathers,  but  not  a  single 
gander  feather!  [Here  several  jurors  hold  up  goose 
feathers.] 


Blindfolded  Justice  177 

"Yes,  gentlemen,  well,  er,  yes — oh! — you  see,  gen- 
tlemen, that  is  a  fact  I  intended  to  bring  out  since  it 
sets  the  capstone  on  the  brow  of  my  argument.  Those 
are  indeed  goose  feathers,  but  you  remember,  gentle- 
men, that  this  case  involves  not  a  goose  but  a  gander. 

"Now,  sirs,  we  have  show^n  triumphantly,  that  there 
is  not  a  gander  feather  in  the  lot — not  one!  But  is  it 
possible,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  that  a  gander  should 
have  been  kept  in  a  hotel  coop,  under  circumstances  so 
favorable  for  molting,  without  shedding  a  single 
feather?  No,  gentlemen,  never  has  an  instance  been 
recorded  in  history,  sacred  or  profane,  since  the  first 
gosling  stood  on  one  foot  and  with  upturned  eye  gazed 
contemplatively  on  the  eternal  sun,  of  a  gander's  pass- 
ing two  weeks  of  its  history  in  a  hotel  coop  without 
shedding  a  single  feather!     No  wonder  you  smile. 

"Gentlemen,  you  have  heard  it  stated  here  that  the 
prisoner  did  not  raise  geese.  No ;  and  for  that  very  rea- 
son he  bought  one,  as  any  prudent  man  would  do,  to 
fatten  for  Thanksgiving.  And  has  it  come  to  pass  in 
this  free  land,  that,  if  a  man  does  not  raise  geese,  he 
can't  buy  any?  Gentlemen,  the  innkeeper  does  not 
raise  geese,  and  according  to  the  State's  own  argu- 
ment, if  he  ever  owned  the  bird  in  dispute,  he  must 
have  stolen  it !  And  when  you  render  your  righteous 
verdict,  if  it  should  appear  to  your  unbiased  minds 
that  this  gander  was  the  property  of  the  innkeeper, 
you  will  be  forced  to  give  sentence  that  he  stole  it! 

"And,  gentlemen  of  the  jury  [looking  quizzically], 
the  State  avers  in  open  court  that,  on  the  night  of  the 
alleged  theft,  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  was  seen  in  the 
hotel  yard.     My  fellow-countrymen,  does  the  Com- 

12 


178  Good  Gumption 

monwealth's  attorney  expect  twelve  rational  men  to 
swallow  such  diluted  logic?  Has  the  State  been  re- 
duced to  such  a  strait  as  to  hinge  its  case  upon  so  ap- 
parent a  fallacy?  Gentlemen,  haven't  all  of  you  been 
in  the  hotel  yard  within  the  last  twenty-four  hours? 
Did  you  steal  a  goose  ?    Eh  ? 

"And,  gentlemen,  His  Honor  has  been  seen  in  the 
hotel  yard  at  night — would  he  soil  his  immaculate  er- 
mine by  purloining  a  goose  ?  Gentlemen,  the  hotel  is 
a  public  place,  and  there  is  no  custom  requiring  a  vis- 
itor to  report  his  business ;  and  yet,  the  State  charges 
against  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  that  he  did  not  report 
himself  as  on  any  business ! 

*'But,  gentlemen,  in  order  to  convince  you  of  the 
honest  intentions  of  the  prisoner,  it  behooves  us  to 
explain  his  presence  in  the  back  yard  of  the  hotel. 
Gentlemen,  every  man  that  wants  to  sell  a  fowl  repairs 
first  to  the  hotel  to  dispose  of  it,  especially  if  his  bird 
is  an  antiquated  rooster  or  gander.  Now,  the  prison- 
er, having  bought  the  gander,  which  proved,  by  rea- 
son of  years,  to  be  unsuited  to  his  mother-in-law's 
mastication,  as  a  dutiful  son  hastened  to  the  innkeep- 
er to  sell  it,  but  finding  that  they  could  not  agree  on 
the  terms,  he  carried  his  valuable  capon  back  home. 
And  one  of  the  neighbors  testified,  you  remember,  that 
he  saw  the  prisoner  that  night  with  the  goose.  See, 
gentlemen,  how  this  unimpeachable  witness,  upon 
whom  the  State  so  largely  depends,  goes  to  corrobo- 
rate the  statement  we  have  made  ? 

'The  State  insisted  that  the  prisoner  was  seen  in 
the  back  yard  of  the  hotel.  Now,  gentlemen,  if  you 
wanted  to  sell  a  goose  at  a  hotel,  would  you  go  swag- 


Blindfolded  Justice  179 

gering  into  the  front  yard,  to  the  annoyance  of  the 
guests,  or  quietly  enter  the  back  yard,  where  business 
hke  yours  is  commonly  dispatched?  Ah!  the  prose- 
cution has  unwittingly  demonstrated  the  niceties  and 
proprieties  of  the  prisoner's  life.  Why,  gentlemen,  the 
refinements  of  poesy  scarcely  afford  an  instance  of 
more  delicate  or  fastidious  taste.  But  he  did  not  re- 
port himself  as  on  any  business,  argues  the  State. 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,  gentlemen,  the  prisoner's  os- 
tensible business  was  to  sell  his  gander,  but  his  real 
purpose  in  visiting  the  hotel  was  to  make  love  to  the 
cook.  My  fellow-countrymen,  do  you  wonder  that  he 
loitered  about  the  hotel  until  a  late  hour  ?  Didn't  you 
hang  about  your  sweetheart's  premises  until  the  small 
hours,  gentlemen  ?  Of  course  3^ou  did ;  and  so  did  our 
most  honorable  judge.  Yet,  gentlemen,  did  you  call 
up  the  family  and  report  your  business  ?  But,  should 
you  decide  this  case  against  the  prisoner,  you  may, 
gentlemen,  in  your  old  age,  be  charged  with  stealing 
a  goose,  because  you  didn't  report  yourselves  as  court- 
ing. Yes,  gentlemen,  if  a  fellow  on  so  tender  an  er- 
rand is  obliged  by  law  to  report  his  business,  there 
will  soon  be  no  such  business  to  report ;  while,  per  con- 
sequence, our  daughters  will  die  old  maids,  and  our 
young  men  will  migrate  to  a  land  of  better  laws.  But 
especially  [lowering  his  voice]  would  such  a  statute 
be  cruel  in  the  case  of  our  friend,  the  prisoner,  who 
happened,  at  the  time  of  the  charge,  to  be  a  widower  of 
six  weeks'  standing. 

"The  attorney  for  the  State  flaunts  into  your  faces 
the  confident  assertion  that  Turnipins'  wife  testified 
that  her  husband  told  her  he  got  the  goose  from  the 


180  Good  Gumption 

innkeeper.  See,  gentlemen,  the  reckless  statements 
the  State  feels  compelled  to  make!  Why,  sirs,  this 
lady  who  gave  her  testimony  so  innocently  and  clearly, 
is  the  prisoner's  mother-in-law !  You  discover,  gentle- 
men, that  the  State  has  not  made  very  thorough  inves- 
tigation, or  else  is  prosecuting  a  fictitious  criminal. 
If  you  decide  this  case  against  the  prisoner,  you  will 
have  to  demand  proof  as  to  his  having  a  wife;  but  as 
he  has  no  wife,  and  the  village  undertaker  can  satisfy 
you  on  that  point,  you  are  forced  to  regard  the  sub- 
ject of  the  prosecution  as  a  married  man. 

"But,  gentlemen,  Turnipins'  mother-in-law  did  say 
that  the  prisoner  got  the  goose  from  the  innkeeper. 
Yes,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  this  saintly  w^oman,  seeing 
that  the  avaricious  innkeeper  tried  to  get  the  goose 
from  her  son-in-law  for  a  bare  trifle,  a  mere  song,  and 
that  her  resolute  son-in-law  had  snatched  from  the 
niggardly  hands  of  the  innkeeper  the  noble  fowl, 
shouted  in  her  joy  and  satisfaction  that  he  got  the 
goose  from  the  innkeeper.  Gentlemen,  do  you  blame 
the  prisoner  for  getting  his  goose?  If  some  sharp 
rogue  should  try  to  cheat  you  out  of  your  property, 
wouldn't  you  get  it  and  take  it  home  ?  Is  it  right,  gen- 
tlemen jurors,  for  a  man  to  let  an  accomplished  villain 
step  up  and  confiscate  his  just  earnings,  his  lawful 
property?  No,  gentlemen,  it  is  not  right;  and  as  sons 
of  a  free  soil,  you  are  bound  to  uphold  the  brave  man 
who  dares  to  humble  the  bold  oppressor. 

''Gentlemen,  don't  your  hearts  burn  within  you,  as 
you  look  upon  this  poor  prisoner,  persecuted,  despised, 
robbed,  slandered,  by  the  prosperous  but  wicked  inn- 
keeper?   Gentlemen,  it  is  a  case  of  the  rich  against  the 


Blindfolded  Justice         ,       181 

poor.  This  purse-proud  and  base  innkeeper  thinks  he 
has  only  to  put  forth  his  murderous  hand,  and  throttle 
the  poor  but  honorable  prisoner  at  the  bar,  because  he 
ventured  to  set  his  own  price  on  his  fowl,  and  displayed 
such  glorious  heroism  that  generations  yet  unborn 
will  never  tire  of  hearing  it.  Yes,  gentlemen,  he  got 
the  goose.  Sheriff,  bring  that  gander  here.  Don't 
you  see,  my  countrymen,  he  got  him  ?  This  is  the  very 
goose  the  prisoner  had  fattened,  and  petted,  and  loved. 
This  tender  old  mother-in-law^  had  become  attached  to 
the  noble  bird,  only  to  see  it  taken  from  her  home. 

"Gentlemen,  have  these  aged  and  flowing  eyes  no 
arguments  for  you?  But,  gentlemen,  more  than  this 
— and  if  ye  have  tears,  prepare  to  shed  them  now — do 
you  see  these  motherless  children  with  no  loving  hand 
to  caress  their  brow,  no  soft  lips  to  kiss  their  little 
cheeks,  no  kind  voice  like  a  mother's  to  speak  peace  to 
their  little  hearts?  Well,  gentlemen,  these  are  the 
children,  that,  in  the  absence  of  a  mother,  who  is  now 
pleading  from  a  better  world,  for  you  to  do  them  jus- 
tice, had  made  this  dear  bird  a  companion  and  friend. 
And  yet,  this  ingrate,  this  human  monster,  the  inn- 
keeper, would  plunder  a  band  of  orphans,  and  take 
from  them  the  sympathetic  goose  that  so  largely  filled 
a  mother's  place.     [Several  jurors  wept.] 

"The  counsel  for  the  State  alleges  that  the  prisoner, 
when  arrested,  denied  having  a  goose  on  the  premises, 
notwithstanding  the  bird  was  found  in  his  coop.  Now, 
gentlemen,  notice  another  glaring  misstatement  of 
the  prosecution.  This  coop  did  not  belong  to  the  pris- 
oner at  all,  but  was  the  property  of  his  mother-in-law, 
as  T  can  prove  by  forty  competent  witnesses.     You 


182  Good  Gumption 

are  called  upon  by  the  prosecution,  sirs,  as  honest  men, 
to  swallow  such  bald  fallacies.  Gentlemen,  it  never 
has  been  proved,  nor  can  it  ever  be,  that  the  prisoner 
had  a  coop. 

"Moreover,  gentlemen,  much  stress  is  laid  upon  the 
fact  that  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  denied  having  a  goose 
on  the  premises.  How  low  indeed  a  cause  must  have 
sunk  to  require  such  an  argument  to  support  it !  Why, 
gentlemen,  don't  you  see  that  the  innkeeper  had  just 
attempted  to  rob  the  prisoner  of  his  fowl,  and  when  a 
posse  of  armed  men  came  upon  him  unawares,  sus- 
pecting them  too  to  be  robbers,  he  denied  he  had  a 
goose  on  the  premises?  If  they  had  demanded  pota- 
toes, he  would  have  sworn  that  he  had  no  potatoes  on 
the  premises;  yet,  everybody  knows  he  raised  pota- 
toes, and  here  is  [holding  up  a  tremendous  yam]  a 
splendid  specimen,  which  three  hundred  witnesses  can 
testify  grew  on  his  premises.  If  a  band  of  armed  men 
you  took  to  be  robbers  should  suddenly  come  upon  you, 
demanding  your  most  prized  property,  wouldn't  you 
deny  you  had  such  property  ?    Certainly. 

"Now,  gentlemen,  only  one  point  remains  to  be  elu- 
cidated. The  prosecuting  attorney  wants  to  know 
what  possible  motive  the  innkeeper  could  have  in 
bringing  the  charge  of  theft  against  an  innocent  man. 
Why,  gentlemen,  it's  as  clear  as  the  noonday  sun.  The 
innkeeper,  seeing  that  Turnipins  was  an  industrious 
and  sprightly  widower,  just  the  man  to  captivate  a 
first-class  cook,  rather  than  lose  his  cook,  and  through 
her  his  custom,  took  occasion  from  the  prisoner's  visit 
to  charge  upon  him  this  miserable  theft.  Don't  you 
see,  gentlemen?     Now,  gentlemen  jurors,  we  leave 


Blindfolded  Justice  183 

this  case  in  your  sovereign  hands,  satisfied  of  a  right- 
eous verdict.  Just  it  ia  fiat,  coeliim  mat!"  [But  the 
jury  didn't  know  what  that  meant.] 

The  august  twelve  retired  to  make  up  its  verdict. 
John  Toothache  said  that  according  to  the  evidence 
the  innkeeper  stole  the  goose.  Tom  Ashes  thought 
the  innkeeper  stole  Turnipins'  mother-in-law.  Phil 
Shingles  thought  Turnipins  stole  the  hotel  cook.  Si- 
las Lowboots  didn't  feel  exactly  sure  whether  the  de- 
fendant was  the  judge,  Commonwealth's  attorney, 
Turnipins,  the  innkeeper,  Turnipins'  mother-in-law, 
or  the  goose ;  that's  what  he  said  bothered  him.  It  was 
reserved  for  the  astute  Bodkins  to  direct  the  jury's 
mind. 

"Boys,"  said  he,  "thar  ain't  no  use  in  wastin'  time 
over  trifles  nohow;  and  more'n  that,  the  evidence  is 
mightily  mixed,  and  'taint  our  business  to  unmix  it. 
Turnipins  is  a  good  fellow,  and  I  fer  one  say  let's  clear 
him.    We  may  be  in  his  fix  some  day  ourselves." 

"That's  what  I  say,  too,"  ejaculated  Garlic,  and  the 
remainder  of  the  immaculate  custodians  of  justice 
shouted  "Amen !" 

The  case  had  already  cost  the  State  $758,  and 
was  about  to  be  appealed  to  the  Supreme  Court,  to 
cost  more,  when  from  excessive  age  the  goose  died, 
thus  ending  its  sublunar  trials ;  and  the  innkeeper,  no 
longer  able  to  gorge  the  stomachs  of  a  host  of  legal 
hyenas,  was  compelled  to  stop  the  suit.  Toadville 
whispered,  "There's  nothing  more  glorious  on  the  face 
of  the  earth  than  the  American  jury  system — for  law- 
yers and  rascals." 


INNOCENCE    ABROAD 


Chapter  XV. 


About  this  time  and  while  still  I  was  pondering 
what  my  mission  in  life  was  to  be  I  determined  to  see 
a  little  of  the  world,  thinking  that  to  travel  and  to  see 
the  big  cities  would  increase  my  store  of  knowledge 
and  wisdom  and  aid  me  in  choosing  a  profession. 
The  city  I  first  chose  was  Philadelphia,  because  there 
a  noted  spiritualist  was  giving  a  nightly  seance  and  I 
wanted  to  observe  the  nature  of  the  crowds  he  was 
drawing  as  well  as  to  measure  the  man  himself. 

There  always  has  been  in  our  world  a  class  of  peo- 
ple that  know  more  than  anybody  else  about  what  the 
wisest  men  have  pronounced  unknowable.  Still  there 
are  persons  who  desire  to  know  these  things,  and  they 
can  readily  find  other  persons  who  will  undertake  to 
reveal  them  for  the  consideration  of  a  few  dollars.  If 
the  unknowable  can  be  revealed,  of  course  it  ought  to 
be  paid  for.  The  present  dispenser  of  the  unknown 
was  attracting  unusual  attention  throughout  the 
country  as  a  revealer  of  secrets  and  a  master  of  the 
"black  art."  In  his  chosen  profession,  he  was  unsur- 
passed in  the  United  States,  and  perhaps  in  the  world. 
I  do  not  intend  any  reflection  upon  the  magicians  of 
the  old  country  by  this  broad  assertion;  and  should 

any  transatlantic  wizards  feel  hurt,  they  will  please 
(184) 


Innocence  Abroad  185 

mollify  their  grief  by  remembering  that  I  have  never 
traveled  extensively,  and  know  more  about  collards 
than  witches.  This  noted  man,  of  course,  I  must  see, 
and  to  that  end  I  coaxed  Bucephalus  to  bear  me  with 
average  speed  over  a  four  days'  journey  to  the  City 
of  Brotherly  Love. 

As  I  rode  along  one  of  the  leading  streets  of  Phila- 
delphia, having  never  before  visited  a  city,  I  thought 
it  comported  with  the  dignity  of  a  gentleman  from  the 
country,  and  was  also  due  the  people  among  whom  I 
had  come,  to  sit  my  animal  with  becoming  grace,  that 
I  might  bring  no  reproach  upon  either  my  ancestry  or 
my  mule,  naturally  presuming  that  my  advent  would 
create  considerable  stir.  I  summoned  all  the  dignity 
and  grace  at  my  command.  I  wore  a  broad-brimmed 
straw  hat,  which  served  both  as  chapeau  and  umbrel- 
la; my  pants,  for  the. sake  of  protection,  were  stuffed 
into  my  red-topped  boots,  and  I  had  on  a  homespun 
coat,  constructed  after  the  manner  of  a  jacket — the 
uncultured  would  have  called  it  a  jacket — on  the  lapel 
of  which  drooped  a  wilted  sunflower  surrounded  by  a 
constellation  of  morning-glories  [whose  glory  had  de- 
parted] sacredly  pinned  there  by  the  fair  hand  of 
Polytechnic  Campbell. 

Now  and  then,  as  I  glanced  up  to  mark  what  im- 
pression I  was  making  on  my  countrymen,  just  as  any 
fair-minded  man  will  do,  I  read  in  the  faces  of  a  num- 
ber of  observers,  chiefly  loafers  and  newsboys,  that 
the  sentiment  obtained  that  I  was  the  prophet  Jonah, 
late  passenger  of  the  Whale,  but  now  freighted  with 
a  message  of  doom.  As  I  proceeded,  however — Bu- 
cephalus shying  first  to  the  left  and  then  to  the  right. 


186  Good  Gumption 

and  bringing  his  ears  to  a  quizzical  horizontal  at  every 
street-car  that  passed — others  seemed  to  take  me  for 
an  impersonation  of  the  seer  Balaam,  especially  when 
my  beast  straddled  the  track,  and  brought  to  an  un- 
ceremonious halt  a  funeral  procession,  which  he  en- 
tertained with  a  long  and  hearty  bray. 

Bucephalus,  like  his  master,  unused  to  the  "din  and 
turmoil  of  the  world,"  not  readily  adapting  himself  to 
the  situation,  and  refusing  to  be  governed  by  those 
equitable  laws  to  which  all  flesh  should  render  obe- 
dience, was  elevated  bodily  by  a  quaternion  [I  hope 
this  word  drives  you  to  the  Dictionary]  of  rotund  po- 
licemen, and  transported  half  a  square  to  a  location 
that,  by  reason  of  greater  room,  offered  him  enlarged 
facilities  for  exhibiting  himself.  After  a  protracted 
and  rather  unpleasant  pause  there,  he  reluctantly  con- 
sented to  accompany  me,  and  I  led  him  in  deep  humil- 
iation through  the  great  highways  of  the  second  city 
of  America,  his  head  assuming  a  perpendicular  and 
my  right  arm  well-nigh  dislocated,  until  finally  I  came 
to  a  stand  in  front  of  the  hotel  at  which  I  intended  to 
stay.  An  Irish  porter  came  out  to  relieve  me  of  the 
animal — but  I  never  learned  who  relieved  the  porter. 
I  only  know  that  Pat  was  missing  from  his  post  of 
duty  next  day,  and  the  morning  paper  stated  that  he 
would  probably  be  a  guest  at  the  Sawbones  Hospital 
a  fortnight  or  so — that  mule  of  mine  never  was  re- 
liable. 

When  tea  was  ready,  with  characteristic  promptness 
I  was  on  hand.  A  gentleman  with  a  soft  Italian  ac- 
cent and  robed  in  spotless  linen,  came  gracefully  up 
behind  my  chair  and,  in  a  voice  of  perfect  melody,  ad- 


Innocence  Abroad  187 

dressed  me  in  a  most  courteous  and  lordly  style.  I, 
of  course,  as  any  well-bred  man  would  do,  politely 
arose,  shook  his  hand  in  a  most  friendly  way,  inquired 
after  his  family,  and  cordially  invited  him  to  sit  down. 
I  was  about  to  unfold  my  mission  in  visiting  Phila- 
delphia, when,  with  a  superb  smile,  the  waiter  (for 
such  this  individual  was)  asked  my  orders,  enabling 
me  to  detect  the  mistake  I  had  made — which  was  due 
to  the  fact  that  I  never  before  had  been  served  by  per- 
sons of  light  complexion. 

The  Italian  placed  the  bill  of  fare  before  me,  to  as- 
sist me  in  making  an  intelligent  choice ;  but  not  under- 
standing foreign  tongues  (though  I  had  a  diploma  in 
modern  languages  from  Sheepskin  College)  I  put  it 
aside  and  called  for  coffee,  scrambled  eggs,  beans,  po- 
tatoes, pork,  and  collards  and  then  I  actually  had  to 
explain  what  collards  were.  When  a  person  gets  be- 
yond this  assortment  his  taste  has  become  vitiated.  I 
was  getting  along  finely  until  I  emptied  what  seemed 
to  be  half  a  cruet  of  clear,  beautiful-looking  vinegar 
over  my  collards,  and  spoiled  them.  This  is  a  sort  of 
vinegar  I  hope  never  to  encounter  again — they  call  it 
in  the  bill  of  fare  huile  d' olive,  which  in  English  means 
olive  oil. 

After  tea  I  retired  in  order  that  I  might  be  prepared 
for  the  labors  of  the  morrow.  On  entering  my  room, 
I  sat  motionless  for  some  minutes,  watching  the  bril- 
liant jet  of  gas,  which  was  a  novelty  to  me — there  be- 
ing no  gas  in  Doodle  Town.  After  a  while,  just  as  I 
had  always  done,  I  blew  out  the  light  and  resigned 
myself  to  the  joys  of  somnolence,  when  T  suddenly 
discovered  that  the  atmosphere  had  become  charged 


188  Good  Gumption 

with  a  most  offensive  odor.  With  the  presence  of 
mind  that  ever  should  characterize  a  traveler,  I  opened 
my  door  and  called  for  a  committee  of  consultation. 
A  servant  was  soon  at  my  side  asking  if  I  had  turned 
off  the  gas.  I  demanded  an  explanation  of  this  seem- 
ing impertinence,  and  was  satisfied  only  when  he  had 
relighted  the  gas  and  turned  it  off.  I  dismissed  him 
with  the  suggestive  remark  that  a  hotel  of  such  pre- 
tensions should  have  a  sort  of  gas  that  could  be  blown 
out. 

About  midnight  I  heard  an  alarm  of  fire.  In  the 
quiet  land  of  my  boyhood  such  alarms  were  rare,  but 
never  failed  to  arouse  the  neighborhood.  He  that  did 
not  promptly  rush  with  a  bucket  of  water  to  the  scene 
of  the  conflagration,  and  render  all  the  help  in  his 
power,  was  recorded  in  the  annals  of  society  as  an 
unworthy  citizen.  Accordingly,  my  nerves  stretched 
to  their  utmost  tension,  and  in  wild  excitement,  T 
darted,  as  an  arrow  shot  from  an  effective  bow,  down 
three  flights  of  stairs,  screaming  at  the  top  of  mv 
voice,  "Fire!  fire!  fire!"  As  I  sped  down  the  street,  I 
warned  the  city  of  its  danger,  in  spite  of  a  gang  of 
unmannerly  policemen  who  sought  to  discourage  me 
with  disrespectful  epithets.  Nevertheless,  I  hurried 
on  in  the  direction  of  the  noise,  with  the  pitcher  of 
water  I  had  seized  in  starting,  and  arrived  at  length 
at  the  scene  of  the  fire — a  candy  stand,  that  had  been 
set  ablaze.  As  I  found  a  couple  of  engines — there  are 
no  engines  in  Toadville — extinguishing  the  last  spark, 
I  shouted,  "The  city  is  safe!"  and  returned  to  my  bed 
with  a  clear  conscience.  It  is  a  great  satisfaction  to 
think  you  have  saved  a  city. 


w 

a: 

C 
M 

u 

U 

X 

Eh 
H 

I 
O 
w 


w 
> 

-r 


(189) 


190  Good  Gumption 

Next  morning,  I  started  out  to  inform  myself  touch- 
ing the  city  and  city  hfe.  I  soon  came  to  an  uncon- 
scious stand  before  a  clothing  establishment,  assum- 
ing a  dignified  attitude  in  front  of  its  mammoth  win- 
dow. After  placing  my  hands  in  the  bottom  of  my 
pockets,  and  forming  my  legs  into  a  comfortable  an- 
gle of  thirty  degrees,  I  fixed  my  eyes  on  the  beautiful 
scarfs,  neckties,  glossy  shirts,  hats,  caps,  shoes,  boots, 
and  suits  of  clothes  that  rose  like  a  magnificent  pano- 
rama before  my  astonished  vision.  Having  never 
seen  anything  like  that  in  Toadville,  I  naturally  was 
deeply  impressed.  The  sympathetic  merchant,  ob- 
serving my  rapt  interest,  affectionately  laid  his  hand 
on  my  arm,  and,  cordially,  like  a  true  Israelite,  in- 
vited me  to  walk  in  and  examine  his  goods,  which  he 
said,  were  ''de  sheapest  and  de  best  goots  dat  never 
was  in  de  American  market  before." 

"Sir,"  said  I,  "to  find  a  friend  so  far  from  home  is 
an  unexpected  joy,  and  to  examine  such  a  stock  of 
goods  as  you  have  mentioned  would  be  an  additional 
delight,  but  I  am  here  not  to  purchase  goods,  but  to 
witness  the  performances  of  the  great  spiritualist  to- 
night." 

"Oh !  yesh ;  him  ish  vonderful  very  much.  He  puys 
all  his  clothes  right  here  in  dis  store.  So  I  subbose 
you  ish  from  de  coontry?"  said  the  son  of  Abraham. 

"I  ish,"  returned  I,  attempting  to  conform  to  city 
phraseology.  "Aly  home  is  Shakerag,  near  Toadville. 
My  father  is  the  grandson  of  that  hero  of  the  Revolu- 
tion, Captain  Clam  Beans,  immortalized  for  his  effi- 
ciency in  the  commissary  department.  And  my  grand- 
mother— " 


Innocence  Abroad  191 

"Never  mind  apout  dat,"  interrupted  my  Hebrew 
acquaintance,  although  I  was  on  the  eve  of  disclosing 
to  him  some  important  bits  of  my  family  history. 
"Shoost  coom  in  and  see  dem  goots." 

'Tlease  excuse  me,  sir ;  I  do  not  purpose  to  buy  any- 
thing, and  would  rather  not  weary  you." 

"Mine  frient,  I  ish  glad  I  ish  med  wid  you.  It  ish 
no  droubles  to  show  mine  goots.  Dat  ish  vot  I  gets 
dem  for.  Coom  in  and  see  dem  goots."  And  he  pulled 
me  into  his  store. 

Of  course,  I  thanked  the  compassionate  clothier  for 
his  disinterested  kindness,  and  consented,  after  much 
persuasion,  to  let  him  show  me  over  the  vast  empo- 
rium. He  displayed  his  goods  most  courteously,  and 
with  untiring  energy  piled  up  on  the  several  counters, 
in  great  variety  and  profusion,  every  style  of  wear  he 
thought  would  suit  the  tastes  of  a  country  lad.  He 
dragged  me  back  to  a  little  room  containing  a  stool 
and  a  looking-glass,  and,  after  making  me  put  on  a 
complete  change  of  underwear,  kept  putting  pants  on 
me,  and  pulling  them  off,  in  the  endeavor  to  procure 
a  fit,  until  one  of  my  legs  gave  out  and  I  came  near 
having  a  couple  of  fits.  I  remonstrated,  saying  I 
would  perhaps  visit  Philadelphia  again  in  the  future, 
and  then  would  finish  inspecting  his  superb  stock. 
This  remark  only  inspired  the  enthusiastic  philan- 
thropist with  intensified  zeal  in  applying  a  pair  of 
tight-fitting  breeches  to  me,  and  squeezing  me  up  in  a 
pigeon-tail  coat,  both  articles  evidently  having  been 
designed  for  a  first-class  dude. 

"Now,"  exclaimed  the  Jew,  exultantly;  "you  seltom 
see  shoost  so  goot  a  fit  as  dat.     It  ish  splendid  fit  ex- 


192  Good  Gumption 

actly.  It  makes  you  look  like  a  yoong  shentleman 
from  de  city,  very  much,"  concluded  the  mercantile 
prince,  slapping  me  on  the  back  to  indicate  the  perfect 
fit  of  the  suit. 

I  made  an  effort  to  doff  the  apparel,  but  he  affec- 
tionately patted  my  shoulder,  saying  it  would  neyer  do. 

"Keep  dem  clothes  and  takes  'em  home  wid  you.  I 
intends  you  miist  shoost  have  dem  clothes,"  said  he. 

Thus  when  I  discovered  that  in  a  most  delicate  way 
he  was  making  me  a  present — this  stranger  on  whom 
I  had  no  claim — my  emotional  nature  was  touched, 
and  utterance  failed  me.  At  length  I  controlled  my 
feelings  enough  to  say,  "How  very  kind  you  are,  sir." 

He  carried  me  out  next  to  wilderness  of  boxes,  as- 
severating that  I  must  have  a  dozen  of  those  glossy 
French  shirts  and  as  many  collars.  "Now  you  takes 
your  pick,"  commanded  my  benefactor,  when  we 
reached  the  shirts. 

"]\Ty  dear  sir,"  urged  I,  modestly,  "please  excuse 
me.  T  should  prefer  not  being  placed  under  further 
obligation.  I  am  sure  it  is  very  generous,  but  it  is 
enough." 

"No !  no !  never  do.  Dem  shirts  must  go  wid  dem 
clothes."  And  he  wrapped  them  up,  throwing  in  a 
necktie. 

"Now,"  continued  the  Israelite,  who  seemed  to  be 
having  matters  his  own  way;  "you  must  shoost  put  on 
a  pair  of  dem  fashionable  morocco  poots,  which  suits 
you  oxactly." 

The  boots  were  soon  on  my  feet,  some  four  sizes 
too  large,  but  he  said  they  fitted  me  perfectly,  and 
summoned  several  of  his  clerks,   who  swore  to  the 


Innocence  Abroad  193 

same  thing.  Inasmuch  as  I  was  a  beneficiary  I,  of 
course,  offered  no  difference  of  opinion. 

"Now,"  insisted  the  descendant  of  Jacob,  "I'm  ish 
goin'  to  give  you  one  of  de  finest  peavers  in  mine 
store."  And  he  set  a  stovepipe  hat  on  my  head,  as- 
suring me  that  such  was  the  fashion  "wid  resbectible 
beobles." 

Seeing  he  would  take  no  denial,  I  made  no  further 
attempt  to  refuse  his  bestowments,  but  my  heart  was 
full,  and  sometimes  the  falling  tear  told  of  the  strug- 
gle within. 

"Now,  mine  friend,  would  you  like  something  else 
besides?" 

"My  dear  sir,  no !  Your  bounty  alread}^  has  over- 
come me.     Please  mention  nothing  else." 

In  spite  of  me,  however,  he  thrust  a  handsome  cane 
at  me  with  an  exquisite  smile.  I  smiled  too.  Why 
should  I  not  smile?  I  fancied  my  first  visit  to  Poly- 
technic in  my  new  suit.  What  admiration,  too,  would 
I  excite  in  the  mind  of  Mrs.  Campbell!  Yes,  I  smiled; 
in  fact  I  did  it  several  times. 

While  thus  reflecting,  I  grasped  the  liberal  hand  of 
my  benefactor,  inviting  him  to  my  wedding  when  it 
came  off,  and  promising  to  bring  Bucephalus  round 
next  day  for  him  to  look  at.  Pressing  his  hand  most 
tenderly,  the  grateful  tears  starting  in  my  eyes,  as  I 
said  faintly,  yet  with  deep  emotion,  "Good-by!"  I 
started  for  the  door. 

"Stops,  mine  frient,  and  I  makes  out  dat  little  pill." 

"Oh!  thank  you,  my  friend,  how  very  thoughtful 
you  are!  But  I  do  not  need  a  pill  to-day.  My  health 
is  perfect,  but  I  shall  ever  remember  with  gratitude 
13 


194  Good  Gumption 

your  fatherly  care.  Your  kindness  to  me,  a  stranger, 
is  overwhelming." 

"Put  dat  money  pill  I  must  give  you.  Dat's  vot  I 
mean." 

"My  kind  friend,  you  really  must  excuse  me.  I 
don't  want  to  appear  rude,  but  you  have  done  so  much 
for  me  already  that  I  cannot  take  money  in  any  form 
from  you.  I  am  sure,  sir,  that  if  there  is  any  medicine 
in  the  world  that  would  help  me,  it  would  be  a  money 
pill;  but  please  pardon  me  now." 

"You  don't  understand  pusiness,  I  dinks.  I  mean 
p-i-double  1.    Dat's  vot  I  says." 

"I  understand  you  perfectly,  my  friend.  You  are 
quite  correct;  that  spells  pill." 

"Den  I  writes  it  for  you."  Hands  me  a  slip  of  pa- 
per. 

"What  bill?"  inquired  I,  gravely. 

"Dem  goots  shoost  makes  fifty-one  toUar  oxactly." 

"What,  sir?  I  have  bought  nothing.  You  forced 
the  articles  on  me,  under  appearance  of  benefactions ; 
and  now,  sir,  do  you  have  the  face  to  demand  remu- 
neration ?  Are  you  so  great  a  slave  to  filthy  lucre  that 
you  obtain  it  by  a  trick,  under  color  of  beneficence? 
Why,  sir,  I  never  saw  half  of  fifty-one  dollars  at  one 
time  in  my  life !" 

"Den  you  takes  off  dem  goots  and  leaves  'em  here. 
I  don't  do  pusiness  on  dat  way.  I  sells  goots  for  de 
monish." 

I  stripped  off  my  apparel  and,  after  swapping  ap- 
propriate words  of  counsel,  moved  down  the  street 
apace,  pondering  upon  tricks  of  commercial  life. 

"Do  you  know  where  Sim  Jones  lives?"  inquired  I 


Innocence  Abroad  195 

of  a  portly  gentleman  I  met  on  Chestnut  Street.  He 
said  he  didn't  know  him.  I  made  no  reply,  but  thought 
it  quite  marvelous  that  there  should  be  anybody  in 
Philadelphia  that  did  not  know  Sim  Jones.  I  had  no 
acquaintance  with  Sim  myself,  but  as  father  once  re- 
ceived a  circular  from  him,  claiming  to  offer  a  sure 
cure  for  hog  cholera,  I  judged  he  would  like  to  see  me, 
though  I  did  not  have  that  disease. 

I  sauntered  leisurely  on,  bowing  politely  to  every- 
body I  met,  waxing  wiser  every  moment,  until  I  came 
to  a  photograph  gallery,  which  reminded  me  of  a 
promise  to  Mrs.  Campbell  to  have  my  picture  taken  for 
her.  That  Mrs.  C.  should  be  so  anxious  for  my  pho- 
togroph  tickled  me  no  little.  The  widow  thinks  sights 
of  me  now,  thought  I.  If  she  could  only  have  seen 
me  in  that  suit  of  tights — and  I  sighed. 

"What  sort  of  picture  do  you  want?"  asked  the 
artist. 

"Well,  just  give  me  a  general  good  picture — not 
too  strikingly  like  me — say,  something  that  will  sug- 
gest the  seven  wise  men." 

"I  presume,  of  course,  you  prefer  vignette  style." 

"What?  Vignette?  Well,  yes;  I  never  had  a  like- 
ness of  me,  but  I  reckon  that  will  do.  Only  let  it  be 
full  length."    He  smiled,  seeing  I  knew  all  about  it. 

"What  size  do  you  wish,  sir?" 

"Well,  you  may  make  it  about  the  size  of  George 
Washington.  "S^ou  can  leave  old  Wash's  horse  out  if 
you  like." 

"Such  pictures  are  very  costly,  sir.  Most  persons 
prefer  small  busts,  as  cheaper  and  more  convenient. 
How  many  shall  I  take?" 


196  Good  Gumption 

"I  suppose  about  two  hundred  of  the  smaller  size 
will  do,  as  I  have  a  great  many  friends,  and  Mrs. 
Campbell  will  want  a  dozen  or  so." 

The  delighted  artist  swung  a  chair  into  one  corner 
of  the  room,  knocked  me  down  upon  it,  twisted  my 
legs  into  positions  of  grace,  threw  my  arms  into  a  sort 
of  a  festoon,  screwed  my  head  back  into  an  apparatus 
for  the  purpose,  and  bade  me  neither  move,  nor  wink, 
nor  speak.  He  then  rolled  out  his  camera  and  was 
taking  deliberate  aim  at  me  .when  I  jumped  up  and 
told  him  I  did  not  care  to  have  any  man  point  a  can- 
non at  me,  even  in  jest.  He  declared  it  was  "all  right," 
and  I  resumed  my  seat,  only  indicating  that  I  did  not 
want  anything  serious  to  happen,  as  I  was  some  dis- 
tance from  home.  The  negative  was  soon  taken,  and 
I  was  happy  the  rest  of  the  day. 

I  saw  nothing  more  to  interest  me,  except  a  squad 
of  females,  who,  I  was  told,  were  "sisters  of  Charity." 
They  seemed  to  be  anticipating  rain,  and  were  under 
their  tents.  The  Charity  family  must  be  quite  nu- 
merous, and  all  females.  I  asked  if  Miss  Charity  had 
any  brothers,  but  no  one  could  give  the  desired  in- 
formation. Having  nothing  else  to  do,  I  followed  a 
hand-organ  round  several  streets  to  watch  the  mon- 
key dance,  and  then  returned  to  my  hotel,  a  wearier, 
but  a  wiser  man. 

What  a  sad  and  swindling  world  this  is,  I  pondered, 
in  the  solitude  of  my  apartment  in  the  hotel.  I  had 
gone  abroad  in  Philadelphia  and  thought  I  had  met  a 
good  Samaritan.  He  had  seemed  to  be  a  man  who 
lived  up  to  the  fact  that  he  was  a  resident  of  the  City 
of  Brotherly  Love,  and  T  had  thought  to  go  back  to 


Innocence  Abroad  197 

Toadville  and  Shakerag  and  tell  my  friends  of  the 
generosity  I  had  encountered.  And  all  that  I  had  to 
narrate  of  the  adventure  was  the  fact  that  some  one 
had  tried  to  swindle  me. 

But,  I  concluded,  after  having  viewed  the  situation 
from  all  points,  no  one  else  will  try  to  cheat  me.  I 
have  had  my  experience  and  I  guess  I  shall  be  able 
now  to  get  through  with  my  visit  and  go  back  home 
without  any  further  mishap. 

But  I  reckoned  without  my  host,  as  will  be  disclosed 
later  on. 


AMONG     THE     WITCHES 


Chapter  XVI. 


About  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  after  a  long 
pondering  upon  the  Israelitish  character,  I  was  com- 
fortably seated  in  the  Quaker  City's  opera  house,  wait- 
ing for  the  curtain  to  rise  upon  the  seance  of  the  spir- 
itualist I  had  come  so  far  to  see.  Outside  I  had  bought 
one  of  the  leading  daily  papers  and  while  perusing  it 
came  across  the  following  in  the  shape  of  a  double- 
leaded  editorial: 

DIVES.  THE  INIMITABLE  SEER. 

Professor  Dives,  who  is  now  visiting  this  city,  is  the  phe- 
nomenon of  modern  times,  and  the  most  skillful  spiritual  me- 
dium ever  known.  His  marvelous  revelations,  his  wonder- 
ful prophecies,  and  his  power  to  hold  communication  with 
the  spirit  world  seem  scarcely  short  of  miraculous.  He  lays 
open,  with  startling  accuracy,  the  secrets  of  the  past,  present, 
and  future.  Events  long  forgotten  he  recalls ;  mysteries  in- 
scrutable he  solves  with  the  readiness  of  a  magician.  He 
reproduces  the  dead  in  shadowy  form,  exhibits  their  pictures, 
and  as  a  spiritual  postman  delivers  their  letters.  He  seems, 
indeed,  to  be  a  favorite  wath  the  departed,  and  evinces  the 
ability  to  summon  them  at  will.  His  name  is  a  household 
word  in  every  intelligent  home,  while  his  fame  is  commensu- 
rate with  civilization.    Everybody  should  go  to  hear  him. 

The  editor,  of  course,  got  pay  for  this  pufif,  in  the 

ratio  of  its  remissness  to  veracity,  but  at  the  time  I 
(198) 


Among  the  Witches  199 

took  it  to  be  solid  fact,  and  not  a  financial  job.  Having 
spent  my  youth  on  a  country  farm,  I  had  neither  seen 
much  of  the  great  ones  of  the  earth,  nor  even  heard  of 
their  existence.  I  think,  however,  I  heard  my  father 
on  one  occasion  speak  approvingly  of  George  Wash- 
ington. My  intense,  stolid,  inexcusable  ignorance  of 
Professor  Dives  caused  me  acute  pains  of  mortifica- 
tion, or  if  that  wasn't  it,  it  was  the  stupendous  supper 
I  had  eaten.  Especially  was  I  grieved  when  I  thus 
learned  from  the  editorial  that  Dives  was  one  of  the 
most  conspicuous  figures  in  our  earth's  history — more 
gifted  than  Moses,  wiser  than  Solomon,  and  greater 
than  Paul.  Poor  David!  he  said  his  child  could  not 
come  to  him,  but  Professor  Dives  can  bring  back  Da- 
vid's child  or  anybody's.  Poor  old  David !  he  sure  was 
behind  the  times.  I  began  to  realize  the  disadvantage 
of  having  been  born  in  the  backwoods,  and  was  con- 
soled only  after  drawing  up  a  resolution  that  I'd  never 
be  born  there  again ;  and  I  never  have  been. 

It  was  while  musing  thus  that  a  great  gratification 
suddenly  came  upon  me.  I  discovered  that  my  atti- 
tude of  deep  and  intense  thought,  together  with  my 
naturally  distinguished  mien  and  air  of  ripe  scholar- 
ship and  deep  erudition,  had  made  me  the  center  of  the 
audience's  attraction  and  that  at  least  two  hundred 
opera  glasses  were  turned  upon  me.  With  great  pains 
and  complacency  I  bowed  to  each  adoring  inspector, 
and,  under  a  strong  sense  of  duty,  was  about  to  rise 
and  address  the  crowd,  since  evidently  something  was 
expected  of  me,  when  the  spiritualist  appeared  on  the 
stage,  and  I  was  compelled  to  forego  my  speech.  It 
is  possible  that  some  thought  I  was  the  wizard. 


200  Good  Gumption 

Suddenly  the  gas  was  turned  off,  and  the  great  au- 
dience was  wrapped  in  a  mantle  of  thick  darkness, 
with  which  a  little  ray  of  light  seemed  to  frolic  now 
and  then.  The  spirits  appeared  to  love  darkness  rath- 
er than  light ;  at  all  events,  it  is  just  a  degree  peculiar 
that  they  generally  prefer  to  prowl  about  in  the  night. 
This  is  the  stranger,  too,  when  some  of  them  claim  to 
come  from  unobscured  and  eternal  light.  I  confess 
this  fact  seemed  to  be  a  little  to  the  prejudice  of  the 
better  class  of  ghosts,  but  I  withheld  judgment. 

Many  persons  in  the  audience  received  touching 
messages  from  deceased  relatives,  and  were  variously 
affected.  Wives  heard  from  their  dead  husbands,  and 
sniffled  enough  to  make  it  respectable ;  husbands  heard 
from  departed  wives,  and  stood  it  heroically;  friends 
heard  from  deceased  friends,  and  were  amused. 

After  a  while.  Professor  Dives,  moving  mysteri- 
ously amidst  a  few  dim  rays  that  made  a  feeble  at- 
tempt to  illumine  the  stage  and  were  just  enough  to 
impart  a  sickly  and  lonesome  appearance  to  things, 
announced  in  a  ventriloquial  whisper  that  an  old  lady 
had  come  up,  and  desired  to  speak  with  her  grandson 
from  the  country. 

Now  it  was  safe  to  suppose  that  there  were  at  least 
two  hundred  grandsons  from  the  country  present,  and 
just  as  safe  to  suppose  that  all  of  them  had,  at  the 
lowest  calculation,  one  grandmother  presumed  to  be  in 
glory,  while  many  of  them  had  a  couple  of  such.  Un- 
fortunately, I  was  not  at  the  time  impressed  with  this 
fact,  and  a  sense  of  family  pride  urged  me  to  claim 
the  old  lady.  It  nevertheless  seemed  to  me  somewhat 
odd  that  my  venerable  ancestor  should  make  me  ride 


Among  the  Witches  201 

hundreds  of  miles,  pay  hotel  charges,  and  buy  an  ad- 
mission ticket,  before  she  would  favor  me  with  a  few 
remarks.     So  I  resolved  to  speak  to  the  spirit. 

"Grandma,  is  that  you?"  I  said,  in  a  tremulous 
voice,  for  I  was  on  the  verge  of  having  a  fit. 

"It  is,  my  son,"  was  the  cavernous  reply. 

Whew!  thought  I.  This  diction  ill  comports  with 
the  earthly  speech  of  my  venerable  ancestor,  for  in- 
variably to  such  interrogation  she  replied,  "Hit's  me, 
Red."  But  then,  in  the  shadow  world,  grammar  may 
be  more  generally  applied  than  here. 

"Is  it  well  with  you,  grandmother  ?"  I  asked. 

"It  is  well,  my  son ;  I  rejoice  in  perpetual  youth  and 
inexpressible  felicity." 

It  struck  my  carnal  mind  that,  had  I  a  home  in  so 
happy  a  world,  I  would  have  remained  there  instead 
of  gadding  about  on  a  starless  night.  But  there  is  no 
accounting  for  tastes,  and  my  deceased  relative  did, 
while  an  earthly  resident,  take  strange  turns  occa- 
sionally. I  deemed  it  best,  however,  before  receiving 
the  communication  of  my  aged  ancestor  had  in  store 
for  me,  to  ask  for  a  proof  of  her  identity.  The  pro- 
fessor informed  me  that  she  would  write  her  name  for 
me.    This  was  the  straw  that  broke  the  camel's  back. 

"Sir,"  said  I,  in  a  sepulchral  tone  of  voice  that  I 
think  scared  some  of  the  visitant  ghosts  away,  "Sir, 
my  sainted  ancestor  devoted  her  days  to  raising  chick- 
ens and  running  a  spinning- jenny,  and,  though  I  make 
the  acknowledgment  with  blushes,  it  is  due  her  cher- 
ished memory  that  I  state  the  fact  that  she  never  wrote 
her  name  or  anything  else  in  her  life.  Now,  sir,  I  am 
sure  my  grandmother  would  not  claim  accomplish- 


202  Good  Gumption 

ments  she  never  possessed,  much  less  to  enter  into  a 
dehberate  trick  to  impose  on  the  creduhty  of  her 
grandson;  and  I  insist  that  this  ungenerous  and  un- 
called-for imputation  of  wickedness  at  once  be  re- 
moved." 

I  think  several  more  ghosts  left  as  I  uttered  these 
menacing  words ;  at  any  rate  considerable  excitement 
prevailed  in  the  audience.  After  an  awkward  pause, 
the  wizard  announced  that  my  grandmother  would  ap- 
pear on  the  platform  "materialized."  The  lights  were 
turned  a  little  lower  and  the  hall  was  made  a  little 
darker,  in  order  that  the  old  lady  might  appear  to  ad- 
vantage, I  presume.  Before  her  demise  she  wore 
spectacles,  and  then  had  to  be  led  after  twilight,  but 
possibly  her  sight  had  improved,  and  the  darkness  was 
congenial.  At  all  events  it  was  her  prerogative  to  se- 
lect her  time  of  peregrination. 

After  the  lapse  of  about  ten  minutes,  she  hobbled 
forth  into  the  somber  glimmer  of  the  stage,  arrayed 
in  fantastic  robes  and  shrouded  in  veils,  the  very  im- 
personation of  a  ghost  that  moved  in  the  upper  circles 
of  Hades.  The  scene  was  imposing — very  imposing; 
my  heart  was  touched ;  and  my  pride  was  aroused.  If 
this  is  my  dear  old  grandmother,  reasoned  I,  it  be- 
comes me  to  do  the  affectionate  thing,  and  welcome 
her  most  heartily  after  so  long  an  absence.  So  I 
rushed  frantically  on  the  stage,  and  clasped  the  re- 
turned ancestor  in  my  emphatic  embrace,  as  an  ex- 
hibition of  that  reverence  due  a  relative  who  has  been 
in  the  spirit-land  fifteen  years.  The  lights  were  im- 
mediately turned  on,  and  revealed  an  audience  stand- 
ing on  tiptoe,  gazing  upon  a  captured  ghost. 


o 
o 

3 
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3 

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Q 
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< 
> 
«: 

Q 

<  < 

o  O 


O 
X 
o 

Q 

w 
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(203) 


204  Good  Gumption 

But  behold!  in  the  presence  of  the  vast  assemblage 
of  curious  spectators,  to  my  great  mortification,  my 
venerable  grandparent  came  to  pieces.  The  old  lady 
at  first  screamed,  next  raved,  and  finally  fought  like 
a  wild-cat.  Her  wig  flew  ofif  in  the  scuffle,  while  her 
veils  and  airy  trimmings  became  scattered  promiscu- 
ously— "some  flew  east,  and  some  flew  west,  and  some 
flew  over  the  cuckoo's  nest."  I  sought  to  pacify  the 
"materialized"  spirit,  but  met  with  no  marked  suc- 
cess, and  so,  after  due  acknowledgments  and  en- 
treaties on  the  part  of  Professor  Dives,  who  had  ven- 
tured timidly  on  the  stage,  I  turned  the  witch  over  to 
him  as  his  wife.  This  little  episode  revealed  behind 
the  scenes  a  barrel  or  so  of  old  wigs,  false  hair,  switch- 
es, false  beards,  besides  several  boxes  of  other  pre- 
cious materials  to  "materialize"  the  immortal  phan- 
toms of  another  world. 

The  seance  ended  somewhat  abruptly,  as  you  can 
imagine,  and  the  professor  canceled  his  date  for  the 
next  night  because  of  a  previous  engagement  which 
he  suddenly  discovered. 

The  more  I  have  thought  on  the  subject  of  spirit- 
ualism the  more  thoroughly  I  am  convinced  that  it  is 
the  culminating  humbug  and  most  unmitigated  su- 
perstition of  the  age.  And  here  let  me  say  that  I  am 
in  deadly  earnest.  Thousands  of  people  receive  as  ab- 
solute truth  the  vague  mutterings  of  men  who  play 
tricks  in  the  dark  and  make  their  living  by  the  most 
miserable  type  of  lying.  Spiritualism  has  never  done 
a  good  thing,  while  the  name  of  its  evils  is  legion.  It 
has  blasted  the  nervous  systems,  upset  the  minds,  and 
chilled  the  hearts  of  many  thousands.     It  is  a  cruel 


Among  the  Witches  205 

fraud  that,  under  the  pretense  of  "spiritual  affinities," 
seeks  to  disparage  marital  affinities  and  smother  the 
home.  It  is  the  religion  of  cranks  and  the  creed  of 
fools.  It  destroys  whatever  it  falls  upon  mentally, 
morally,  and  often  physically. 

And  the  spirits  that  are  reputed  to  come  from  a 
world  of  glory  are  a  magnificent  set  of  chuckleheads. 
They  break  through  the  confines  of  eternity  to  talk  a 
string  of  nonsense  to  credulous  noodles.  Not  one  has 
ever  spoken  sense  enough  to  justify  an  obituary  of  a 
deceased  tumblebug.  Judging  from  the  character  of 
the  returned  spirits'  writing,  spelling,  communica- 
tions, and  appearance,  they  need  in  Hades  a  milliner, 
a  schoolteacher,  and  a  missionary ;  for  they  have  evi- 
dently degenerated  into  a  race  of  buffoons.  The  whole 
thing  is  an  absurd  imposture,  and  should  be  crushed 
under  the  stern  heel  of  the  law,  as  an  enterprise  to  ob- 
tain filthy  lucre  by  filthier  slanders  on  the  characters 
of  the  just  made  perfect. 

Concluding  I  had  reached  the  ends  of  the  earth  and 
had  acquired  as  much  information  as  I  could  well  di- 
gest in  a  couple  of  years,  I  turned  my  thoughts  toward 
Shakerag,  which  lay  in  the  vicinity  of  Coon  Hollow. 
To  home  I  would  direct  my  steps. 


PAYING    THE  HOTEL  BILL 


Chapter   XVII. 


My  experiences  in  Philadelphia  were  about  to  end 
when  an  uncomfortable  crisis  presented  itself,  which 
I  proceed  to  chronicle,  since  it  contains  much  food  for 
reflection. 

On  the  morning  after  the  seance  I  walked  up  to  the 
desk  in  the  office  of  the  hotel  in  which  I  stopped,  took 
out  my  pocketbook,  containing"  just  $2.25,  and  de- 
manded to  know  the  extent  of  my  indebtedness. 

"Your  bill  is  just  thirty  dollars,"  said  the  clerk, 
with  a  professional  smile. 

"Thirty  mud-puddles!"  gasped  I,  clutching  the 
counter  to  keep  from  suddenly  assuming  an  undigni- 
fied position,  so  great  was  my  sm*prise. 

"The  amount  is  correct,  sir;  just  thirty  dollars," 
insisted  the  man  behind  the  counter,  with  some  aston- 
ishment. 

"Mr.  Clerk,"  said  I,  when  I  had  recovered  my  reso- 
lution; "your  intentions  may  be  good,  but  it  is  pain- 
fully evident  that  you  have  never  drunk  deeply  from 
the  fountains  of  wisdom,  nor  have  your  travels  been 
extensive.  -Why,  sir,  in  Toadville  I  could  get  board 
and  lodging  for  twenty-five  cents  per  day,  and  in  this 
great  city,  where  provisions  a're  so  plentiful,  I  should 

think  fifteen  cents  an  exorbitant  sum." 
(206) 


Paying  the  Hotel  Bill  207 

I  began  to  cast  about  me  for  a  means  of  making 
money.  Stepping  out  on  the  street  to  hunt  for  some 
employment  which  would  enable  me  to  make  an  hon- 
orable settlement  I  spied  the  following  advertisement 
of  a  wholesale  grocery,  printed  in  all  colors  of  the 
rainbow  on  a  huge  sheet  of  canvas: 

ENORMOUS  BARGAINS 

PRICES  SMASHED.  GOODS  MUST  BE  SOLD. 

KETCHAM  &.  CHEATHAM  GROCERY  CO. 

Because  we  need  the  room  for  new  and  fresh  stock 
we  are  selling  the  following  goods  at  the  accompany- 
ing unheard-of  prices.  Besides,  we  are  going  to  move 
to  our  new  building  sometime  and  don't  want  to  carry 
stock  over.  This  is  no  fire  sale,  but  a  bona  fide  bar- 
gain. Come  in  and  see  the  wonderful  bargains  named 
below. 

50,000  lbs.  side  meat 7  cts. 

2,000  hams 14  cts. 

200  kegs  lard 11  cts. 

300  sacks  salt $1.25. 

275  boxes  cheese 12  cts. 

800  cans  fruit 10  cts. 

700  hogsheads  sugar 8  cts. 

1,500  sacks  coffee 16^  cts. 

1,000  bbls.   flour $5.50. 

40,000  salt  fish 7  cts. 

1,000  kegs  rice 6  cts. 

8,000  sacks  oats 37^  cts. 

40  coops  chickens 30  cts. 

280  geese %]/>    cts. 

Car-load  of  hay 60  cts. 

.  Boat-load  of  watermelons 15  cts. 


208  Good  Gumption 

Wonderful,  thought  I,  gazing  at  the  sign  and  vainly 
racking  my  brains  to  find  some  more  lucid  explana- 
tion for  such  truly  remarkable  bargains.  Certainly 
no  Toadville  or  Doodle  Town  store  could  offer  such 
inducements  to  purchasers.  At  the  same  time  I  began 
to  see  a  way  out  of  my  financial  difficulties.  So  I 
marched  into  the  store  and  was  greeted  by  a  corpu- 
lent grocer — Mr.  Cheatham — who  inquired  whether 
he  could  do  anything  for  me. 

"Do  you  mean  to  sell  your  goods  at  the  prices 
named?"  inquired  I,  with  some  directness. 

"Certainly  I  do.  I  deal  square.  I'll  put  them  goods 
at  the  lowest  margin  for  cash.  I  sell  cheaper  than 
any  grocery  in  the  city." 

"I  am  not  much  authority  on  the  grocery  business," 
said  I;  "but  I  don't  see  how  it  is  possible  for  you  to 
keep  out  of  the  poorhouse,  running  on  such  prices. 
Why,  think  of  it — a  boat-load  of  watermelons  for  15 
centsl    Ain't  those  watermelons  rotten?" 

"No,  sir!"  said  the  grocer,  with  considerable  em- 
phasis, w^iich  he  backed  up  by  rolling  down  a  mam- 
moth melon,  which  cracked  wide  open  at  the  touch 
of  the  knife.  I  took  a  seat  in  front  of  the  fruit — for 
such  is  my  custom — and  for  a  segment  of  an  hour  un- 
broken silence  prevailed.  At  length,  with  the  help  of 
the  merchant  I  regained  my  former  footing  and  re- 
sumed a  business  attitude. 

"Now,"  interrogated  Mr.  Cheatham,  "let  me  sell 
you  a  bill  of  goods." 

"All  right!"  responded  I,  as  a  man  that  had  found 
great  spoil.  "Send  me  all  the  goods  mentioned  in 
your  advertisement,  at  the  prices  named,  to  the  hotel, 


Paying  the  Hotel  Bill  209 

as  per  this  card,  and  Fll  meet  you  there  for  settlement 
at  three  o'clock  this  afternoon," 

I  was  sauntering  down  the  street,  congratulating 
myself  upon  the  marvelous  business  deal  I  had  made, 
when  my  eyes  fell  upon  another  advertisement  quite 
as  pleasing  as  the  first.  The  Dutch  firm  of  Schwartz 
&  Van  Deuzen  was  selling  out  its  entire  stock  of 
dry  goods  at  auction  and  all  varieties  of  human  flesh 
seemed  to  be  on  hand,  each  individual  trying  to  pluck 
a  plum  from  the  commercial  pudding.  The  crier, 
holding  up  a  specimen,  sang  out  with  perfunctory 
melody,  slightly  n^sal,  "Thirty  cases  custom-made 
shoes,  each  case  containing  40  pair ;  who  bids  ?" 

"I'll  take  the  whole  lot  at  75  cents,"  cried  a  peddler. 

"I'll  take  the  whole  business  at  80  cents,"  said  a 
country  merchant. 

"I  vill  takes  de  whole  pill  of  dem  goots  at  85  cent," 
ejaculated  a  Jew  speculator. 

"I  take  the  whole  concern  at  $1.25,"  ventured  I. 

"Vy,  you  kin  puy  dem  goots  anyvere  for  $1.15," 
said  the  son  of  Abraham. 

"Oh !"  said  I,  "I  don't  want  to  get  things  for  noth- 
ing." So  the  300  cases  of  shoes  were  knocked  off  to 
me  at  $1.25. 

The  auctioneer  next  offered  300  dozen  gents'  shirts, 
which  I  ran  up  to  fifty-two  cents.  Then  I  bid  in  7,000 
bolts  of  calico  at  five  cents ;  8,000  ladies'  hats  at  thirty- 
five  cents;  1,000  yards  of  carpet  at  60  cents;  44,000 
yards  of  ribbon  at  fifteen  cents,  and  17,000  bustles  at 
14  cents,  besides  minor  lots  of  muslins,  ginghams,  sus- 
penders, toilet  articles,  fancy  soaps,  and  other  articles 
at  correspondingly  low  prices.  In  fact,  it  was  not 
14 


210  Good  Gumption 

worth  while  bidding  against  me  and  I  took  the  whole 
stock,  to  the  great  chagrin  of  my  competitors,  who 
went  off  complaining  that  I  was  a  public  nuisance. 
But  Schwartz  and  Van  Deuzen  were  much  pleased, 
and  their  Teutonic  manager  declared  that  I  "vus  de 
pest  coostomer  he  effer  see."  "Ve  danks  you  very 
much,"  said  he,  with  grinning  phiz  and  dilated  eyes. 
"Vhere  moost  ve  delifer  dem  goots?" 

"You  may  send  them  to  the  hotel,"  said  I,  handing 
them  a  card  with  the  address ;  "and  I'll  meet  you  there 
for  settlement  at  three  o'clock  this  afternoon." 

"Very  veil,  mine  f rient ;  dat  ish  goot.  Now  ve  vants 
to  give  you  von  nize  bresent.  You  shust  takes  dis  doge 
— Here  doge;  here  doge.  Takes  dis  doge  'long  mit 
you." 

I  thanked  him  for  the  "doge"  and  moved  down  the 
street,  dragging  my  pup  by  a  string,  though  he  sat  on 
his  hind  quarters  propping  himself  with  his  feet  to  re- 
sist, and  locating  his  tail  between  his  legs,  for  what 
purpose  I  have  never  been  able  to  ascertain.  But  dogs 
don't  care  much  for  philosophy. 

At  nearly  every  corner,  I  met  the  grocer  or  one  of 
the  Dutchmen  or  one  of  their  emissaries  hailing  every 
cart,  dray,  and  wagon  that  came  in  sight,  in  order  to 
convey  my  immense  purchases  to  the  hotel.  And  I 
am  candid  enough  to  confess,  that  to  witness  all  the 
vehicles  in  Philadelphia  monopolized  in  my  service  was 
not  displeasing,  while  my  spirit,  exhilarated  by  the 
buzz  of  wheels  and  the  clatter  of  hoofs,  found  joy  in 
the  reflection  that  I  could  settle  my  debt. 

But  this  ecstasy  of  mind  was  destined  to  be  of  short 
duration,  for,  in  passing  a  soap  factory,  an  unknown 


Paying  the  Hotel  Bill  211 

hand  mysteriously  seized  my  pup,  and  I  never  saw 
him  more.  I  ran  to  the  nearest  express  office  and 
asked  the  agent  if  he  had  heard  anything  of  the  beast, 
but  he  was  too  stupid  to  know  what  was  going  on. 
Then,  almost  out  of  breath,  I  entered  a  telegraph  of- 
fice, but  the  operator  seemed  indilTerent  to  my  grief. 
I  wanted  him  to  telegraph  all  over  the  United  States 
describing  my  dog,  and  requesting  his  return.  But 
he  was  too  callous  to  understand. 

As  I  stepped  back  on  the  street,  it  occurred  to  me 
that  my  only  hope  lay  in  securing  the  cooperation  of 
the  police.  I  called  upon  the  chief  of  police,  stated  my 
grievance,  expatiated  on  the  lax  laws  of  the  city,  and 
told  him  that  unless  my  pup  be  restored  before  sunset, 
I  would  sue  the  authorities  for  damages,  and  never 
return  to  Philadelphia  as  long  as  I  lived.  This  made 
him  look  serious  for  he  saw  I  meant  it.  He  said  he 
would  not  like  to  see  the  city  injured,  and  he  would 
notify  the  officers  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  the  dog. 
While  the  chief  was  a  very  obliging  gentleman,  I 
thought  it  prudent  to  use  all  my  own  resources  to  re- 
trieve my  loss,  so  I  therefore  put  an  advertisement  in 
four  evening  papers : 

LOST ! — A  black  pup  with  a  black  streak  down  his  nose, 
answers  to  the  name  of  Sarpedon.  Carries  his  tail  between 
his  legs.  Is  poor  in  flesh.  A  liberal  reward  offered  to 
finder.  No  questions  asked.  Apply  to  H.  Beans,  Ne  Plus 
Ultra  Hotel. 

It  was  nearly  three  o'clock  when  I  began  to  retrace 
my  steps  in  the  direction  of  the  hotel.  The  amount  of 
my  purchases  I  figured  was  in  the  latitude  of  fifteen 
dollars,  just  half  enough  to  meet  the  pompous  charge 


212  Good  Gumption 

of  thirty  dollars,  but  I  knew  the  austere  clerk  would  be 
only  too  glad  to  take  the  goods  in  part  settlement,  and 
adjust  the  bills  with  me  and  the  contracting  firms.  As 
I  entered  the  great  thoroughfare  on  which  the  hotel 
was  located;  I  found  it  blocked  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile, 
while  for  three  squares  all  around  the  hotel,  every 
cross  street  was  thronged  with  innumerable  vehicles 
freighted  with  my  goods.  The  street-cars  had  been 
brought  to  an  unceremonious  halt,  a  long  line  of  om- 
nibuses and  cabs  was  making  a  vain  attempt  to  pass 
the  tangled  drays,  two  funeral  processions  were  quiet- 
ly awaiting  more  propitious  times,  a  military  parade 
was  impatiently  keeping  time,  but  not  keeping  temper, 
while  newspaper  reporters  and  policemen  were  busy 
in  their  respective  functions.  At  length,  by  climbing 
over  some  vehicles  and  crawling  under  others,  I  suc- 
ceeded in  effecting  an  entrance  into  the  hotel. 

"What  does  all  this  mean?"  inquired  the  irate- clerk 
in  tremulous  accents,  as  soon  as  he  perceived  rrie. 

"It  means  business,"  responded  I,  with  a  smile  of 
satisfaction.  "I've  come  to  settle  my  account.  I 
bought  these  goods  for  about  fifteen  dollars,  which 
sum  you  will  no  doubt  be  only  too  happy  to  pay  the 
gentlemen  from  whom  I  purchased;  and  of  course 
you  will  take  this  vast  array  of  goods  in  settlement  of 
my  account,  rejoicing  in  unexpected  riches  and  giving 
me  a  liberal  commission." 

The  clerk  turned  pale,  and  at  this  juncture  there 
stepped  up  Grocer  Cheatham,  presenting  his  bill  for 
$52,500,  while  Schwartz  &  Van  Deuzen's  manager 
handed  over  a  similar  document  for  the  round  sum  of 
$45,000. 


Paying  the  Hotel  Bill  213 

"What's  the  matter?"  said  I  to  the  Teuton,  with 
some  misgiving. 

"Vy,  ve  vants  de  monish  for  dem  goots ;  dot  vot  ish 
de  madders,"  said  the  manager. 

"I  owe  you  $4.50  or  $5."  said  I,  in  measured  tones. 

''How  ish  dot?" 

"Why,  I  bought  thirty  cases  of  shoes,  each  case 
containing  forty  pair,  at  $1.25  ;  didn't  I  ?" 

" Yesh ;  dot  so !" 

"Well,  then  I  bought  three  hundred  dozen  shirts  at 
fifty-two  cents ;  didn't  I  ?" 

"Yesh;dot  so!" 

"Now  let's  add  as  we  go;  don't  you  see  $1.25  for 
shoes  and  52  cents  for  shirts  make  $1.77?" 

"Vot  dot  you  says  ?  Don't  you  see,  mine  f rient,  dot 
30  cases  mit  40  pair  in  von  case,  at  $1.25  per  pair, 
makes  fifteen  hundredt  tollar  for  dem  shoes;  unt  von 
dozen  shirt  at  52  cent  apeas  makes  six  tollar  unt  twen- 
dy-four  cent ;  unt  300  dozen  makes  eighteen  hundredt 
and  sebenty-two  tollar.  Den,  you  sees,  I  adds  fifteen 
hundredt  tollar  mit  eighteen  hundredt  unt  sebenty-two 
tollar,  unt  it  makes  dree  tousand  unt  dree  hundredt  unt 
sevendy-dwo  tollar,  unt  so  fort  troughout  de  pill?" 

"Gentlemen,"  said  I,  facing  all  parties  concerned, 
and  mounting  a  trunk  which  the  porter  had  been  try- 
ing faithfully,  but  in  vain,  to  get  off  for  the  half- 
past  three  o'clock  train.  "Those  who  know  me  best 
love  me  most.  But  you  have  trifled  with  my  affections 
and  laid  snares  for  my  purse.  I  accepted  your  own 
propositions  according  to  their  literal  import,  but  you 
have  done  violence  to  the  plain  English  in  which  your 
terms  were  couched  and  backed  from  your  own  condi- 


214  Good  Gumption 

tions.  Gentlemen,  though  my  Habihties  are  in  excess 
of  my  assets,  my  acquaintance  with  business  justifies 
my  saying  that  this  whole  proceeding  is  undignified 
as  well  as  most  unbusinesslike." 

The  merchants,  seeing  it  was  a  plain  case,  ordered 
their  goods  back  to  the  place  whence  they  came,  and, 
hastened  by  the  police,  taking  leave  of  me  with  much 
unsavory  speech,  while  the  hotel  keeper  added  to  my 
afflictions  by  stating  that  an  excursion,  composed  of 
the  upper  crust  of  Washington  society,  with  a  num- 
ber of  senators  and  other  distinguished  persons  thrown 
in,  five  hundred  in  all,  had  made  arrangements  with 
the  hotel  for  dinner ;  but,  unable  to  reach  it  because  of 
the  crowds,  had  gone  to  a  rival  house,  thereby  inflict- 
ing a  loss  of  $750.  He  didn't  say  which  hotel  lost  the 
$750;  but  I  suspect  that,  if  there  were  many  senators 
along,  the  other  house  suffered  the  loss. 

Sad  at  heart  and  fatigued  by  my  labors  I  went  to 
bed,  but  at  four  o'clock  next  morning  I  was'  rudely 
awakened  by  a  loud  pommeling  on  my  door.  It  proved 
to  be  the  night-clerk.  He  wanted  to  know  what  I 
meant  by  accumulating  "all  these  dogs  on  the  prem- 
ises of  the  hotel."  I  told  him  I  hadn't  accumulated 
any  dogs,  and  had  lost  the  only  one  I  had.  I  even 
asked  if  he  wouldn't  help  me  find  my  pup.  He  said 
I'd  better  come  down  on  the  street  and  "see  about 
those  dogs,"  if  I  didn't  want  trouble.  On  quiet  being 
restored  I  heard  dogs  yelping,  barking,  and  howling 
somewhere  down-stairs,  besides  voices  in  the  hotel 
rooms  pitched  in  a  high  key.  People  were  threaten- 
ing to  leave  such  a  noisy  place  because  they  couldn't 
sleep. 


Paying  the  Hotel  Bill  215 

I  looked  out  of  the  window.  An  army  of  dogs. 
All  sorts.  Newfoundland  dogs,  greyhounds,  terriers, 
fices,  bulldogs,  pointers,  setters,  beagles,  bloodhounds, 
and  all  other  sorts — about  five  hundred.  All  sizes, 
ages,  colors — white,  yellow,  brown,  liver-colored, 
spotted,  red,  striped,  and  blue — all  claiming  to  be  my 
original  black  pup.  The  gentlemen  who  attended 
these  dogs  saw  me  at  the  window.  They  smiled  and 
saluted  me.  They  pointed  to  their  canines.  I  asked 
them  in  a  voice  of  thunder  if  they  thought  a  black  pup 
could  change  his  color  in  a  single  night,  and  if  he 
could  multiply  so  rapidly  in  the  same  time. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  I,  "I  am  sure  it  would  be  dis- 
honest in  me  to  claim  all  these  beautiful  dogs,  as  much 
as  I  should  like  to  own  them,  and  I  am  inclined  to 
think  you  had  better  take  these  curs  back  to  their  re- 
spective owners  or  else  dispose  of  them  at  the  soap 
factory,  where  I  now  believe  my  pup  is  embalmed  in 
fancy  toilet  soap.  Gentlemen,  I  mean  the  dogs,  fare- 
well !" 

But  in  the  morning  I  found  that,  despite  my  efforts 
thirty  big  dollars  stood  against  me  still  on  the  regis- 
ter, and  all  of  my  plans  so  far  had  proved  abortive. 
There  was,  therefore,  nothing  left  me  but  to  renew 
my  efiforts  to  secure  funds.  In  rather  a  disturbed  state 
of  mind,  I  accordingly  repaired  to  the  business  part  of 
the  city  in  quest  of  employment.  By-and-by  I  came 
upon  two  newsboys  under  a  hack,  engaged  in  a  vehe- 
ment quarrel,  each  trying  to  prove  that  the  other  was 
a  rascal;  and  I  judge  from  the  arguments  used  that 
both  were  successful.  Taking  up  a  paper  that  one  of 
them  had  laid  down  in  the  heat  of  controversy,  I  be- 


216  Good  Gumption 

gan  reading  the  list  of  wants.     I  saw  but  one  that 
seemed  to  suit  my  case;  it  read  thus: 

Wanted. — A  young  rtiSn  with  good  muscles,  inured  to  hard 
work,  to  carry  burdens,  do  general  errands,  work  to  a  hand- 
plow,  draw  a  cart  especially  constructed  for  the  purpose,  and, 
in  a  word,  act  in  the  capacity  of  a  family  mule.  Good  wages. 
Apply  at  1728  Cubic  Street  to  J.  Hardcrust. 

The  above  impressed  me  as  a  singular  want,  but 
one  that  seemed  easily  answered.  With  a  prospect  of 
a  final  adjustment  of  my  pecuniary  embarrassment,  I 
trotted  up  to  1728  Cubic  Street  to  offer  my  services, 
since,  from  long  acquaintance  with  mules,  I  thought 
I  could  fill  the  bill.  Desirins:  to  make  a  favorable  im- 
pression  at  the  start  on  Mr.  Hardcrust — whose  house 
seemed  to  be  that  of  a  man  of  large  means — touching 
my  genuine  mulishness,  I  jumped  over  the  low  front 
gate,  spent  ten  minutes  very  profitably  under  a  choice 
dwarf  pear  tree,  kicked  over  a  cage  of  canaries,  and, 
having  pawed  a  couple  of  minutes  at  the  door,  dropped 
into  a  hammock  and  began  wallowing.  Hardcrust, 
somewhat  rudely  awaked  from  his  evening  nap,  came 
bustling  to  the  door. 

"What  will  you  have,  boy?"  inquired  he,  crossly. 

"I  saw  your  advertisement  in  the  'Daily  Mudsling- 
er' and  thought  I  might  suit  you  for  a  few  days." 

"What  are  you  good  for,  hey?" 

"Well,  I  have  lived  chiefly  by  grubbing,  sir." 

"Hard  work,  I  should  say,  for  a  stripling  like  you." 

"Not  much,"  said  I.  "The  greatest  trouble  is  find- 
ing the  grub." 

"I  didn't  advertise  for  a  jester,  my  lad ;  I  want  solid 


Paying  the  Hotel  Bill  217 

work.  I  want  a  youth  to  do  general  pack  work,  haul 
about  my  family  in  a  cart  I  have  had  made,  at  some  ex- 
pense, for  the  special  purpose ;  in  other  words,  I  want 
a  youth  to  perform  the  part  of  a  good  family  mule. 
Can  you  mi  the  bill?" 

"I  think  I  can  come  as  near  acting  the  role  of  such 
an  animal  as  anybody  in  the  United  States.  You  can 
give  me  a  trial,  at  any  rate." 

"All  right !"  agreed  Mr.  Hardcrust.  "My  old  moth- 
er wants  to  go  down  the  street  shopping  this  even- 
ing; so  you  can  harness  yourself  into  the  cart  and  take 
her  down  town,  since  she  is  afraid  of  horses." 

Having  harnessed  myself  up,  I  drew  the  cart  to  the 
front  gate.  The  old  lady  came  out  splendidly  attired, 
and  as  proud  as  Lucifer. 

"Are  you  to  act  as  mule  to-day?"  said  she,  by  way 
of  salutation. 

"I'll  come  as  near  it  as  possible,"  rejoined  I. 

"Are  you  safe?    I'm  afraid  of  all  sorts  of  stock?" 

"Yes,  madam;  I'm  safe."  But  I  don't  think  the  old 
lady  observed  the  emphasis  I  placed  on  the  pronoun. 

"Now,  muley,"  continued  my  patron,  "if  you  be- 
have nicely  this  evening,  on  returning  you  shall  have 
supper.  Mr.  Hardcrust  will  not  care  to  pay  more,  as 
this  is  just  a  trial  ride.  I  suppose  you  have  had  din- 
ner." 

"Yes,  madam;  I  had  some  pears." 

"Well,  that's  enough  for  a  youth  of  your  circum- 
stances, I'm  sure.  By  the  way,  my  boy,  let  me  warn 
you  in  good  time;  don't  you  put  your  foot  near  that 
little  pear  tree  you  see  in  the  corner  of  the  yard  yon- 
der.   The  fruit  on  it  is  just  ripening.    Do  you  hear?" 


218  Good  Gumption 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  responded  I,  innocently. 

"Cluck!  cluck!    Come  up,  muley!" 

I  trotted  off  gently,  all  the  while  pondering  how  a 
family  mule  would  do,  and  resolved  to  fill  the  contract 
by  conforming  to  the  acts  and  habits  of  the  animal 
whose  part  I  was  to  perform. 

She  told  me  to  stop  at  the  corner,  where  a  friend 
with  a  little  boy  was  waiting  for  a  street-car.  As  I 
drew  up  with  the  cart,  the  mutual  friends,  after  proper 
street  etiquette,  engaged  in  the  following  colloquy : 

Mrs.  Hardcrust:  We  are  trying  an  experiment, 
Mrs.  Emptybrains.  You  know  our  "Society  for  the 
Employment  of  Vagabond  Youths"  is  endeavoring  to 
utilize  the  poor  of  our  city,  and  make  something  of  it. 

Mrs.  Emptybrains  {much  interested):  Indeed! 
And  you  propose  to  make  mules  of  them !  Ha !  ha !  ha ! 
and  this  is  such  a  nice  one  you  have  here.     Whoa! 

]\Irs.  Hardcrust  :  Yes,  indeed ;  the  thing  is  as  gen- 
tle as  an  ox,  and  the  very  ideal  of  a  family  animal. 

Mrs.  Emptybrains:  The  aims  of  your  society  cer- 
tainly are  laudable.  If  all  the  poor  scrubs  of  our  city 
could  be  utilized  in  the  service  of  the  rich,  it  would  be 
a  happy  riddance  of  the  present  unsightly  rubbish  of 
our  streets. 

Mrs.  Hardcrust:  Yes,  indeed;  I  loathe  the 
wretched  scum  of  humanity  to  which  you  refer,  and — 

Mrs.  Emptybrains:  But,  don't  you  think,  Mrs. 
Hardcrust,  after  all,  your  noble  society  has  under- 
taken an  impossible  task? 

Mrs.  Hardcrust  {confidentially)'.  Oh!  you  see, 
Mrs.  Emptybrains,  we  don't  really  expect  to  do  much 
with  this  swarm  of  idlers,  so  far  as  their  social,  or 


Paying  the  Hotel  Bill  219 

even  moral  elevation  is  concerned;  but  we  can  turn 
the  pests  that  infest  our  streets  into  a  sort  of  useful 
animal.  In  fact,  Mrs.  Emptybrains,  our  grand  society 
is  compelled  to  have  an  eye  rather  to  the  comfort  and 
aggrandizement  of  its  own  members,  than  to  the  vi- 
cious herd  around  us.  We  don't  give  publicity  to  this 
feature  of  our  society,  but  it  is  natural,  you  know. 

Mrs.  Emptybrains:  Oh!  certainly. 

Mrs.  Hardcrust:  And  then,  too,  Mrs.  Empty- 
brains, our  society  has  a  benevolent  feature  thrown 
in,  which  gives  it  an  air  of  respectability,  and  further 
(though  you  need  not  mention  it),  enables  us  to  get  a 
good  deal  of  advertising  free. 

Mrs.  Emptybrains:  I  thought  the  papers  stated 
that  the  society  was  strictly  benevolent. 

Mrs.  Hardcrust  {triumphantly) :  Of  course  it  is — 
benevolent  toward  its  own  members — and  besides, 
when  we  hire,  for  instance,  a  girl,  she  has  special  reli- 
gious privileges.  While  w^e  go  to  church,  she  cooks 
the  Sunday  dinner,  and  has  all  the  benefit  of  our  criti- 
cisms of  the  sermon  after  we  return;  or  if  we  hire  a 
boy,  like  this  one,  he  drives  the  carriage  on  all  great 
funeral  occasions,  and  has  all  the  spiritual  benefits 
arising  therefrom.  Oh !  yes ;  our  society  is  strictly 
benevolent ! 

Mrs.  Emptybrains  (enthusiastically) :  Capital 
idea!  My  husband  will  have  to  get  a  pair  of  them; 
for  my  little  Tommy  here  will  want  one  to  ride  and 
play  with.  So  much  better  than  a  goat,  isn't  it?  But 
where  on  earth  could  I  put  them  ? 

Mrs.  Hardcrust:  Oh!  bless  you!  The  creatures 
sleep  in  the  stable. 


220  Good  Gumption 

"Just  splendid!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Emptybrains ; 
while  little  Tommy,  stepping  bravely  up,  poked  his 
finger  into  my  side,  crying  "Whoa !  sir !" 

True  to  the  role  of  a  mule,  I  raised  one  of  my  legs 
and  kicked  the  presuming  infant  into  the  gutter.  After 
some  repairs,  however,  the  fond  mother  led  the  preco- 
cious urchin  homeward.  When  Mrs.  Hardcrust  had 
abused  me  freely  I,  thinking  mule  nature  justified  in 
rebellion,  kicked  the  spatter-board  half  off. 

"Do  you  know  whom  you  are  fooling  with,  you  mis- 
erable wharf-rat,  you  ?"  asked  my  humane  driver. 

"No,  ma'am,"  calmly  returned  I. 

"Well,  I'm  Mrs.  Hardcrust,  I  would  have  you  know. 
I  move  in  the  most  respectable  circles  of  the  city,  and 
my  son  is  worth  his  hundreds  of  thousands.  Mind 
how  you  presume,  muley.  \\^hen  the  poor  scum  of  the 
street  get  an  honorable  position,  they  soon  become 
spoiled  and  trifling — the  brood  of  ingrates!" 

"Please  don't  call  me  a  wharf-rat;  it  is  a  reflection 
on  my  character  as  a  mule,"  said  I. 

I  trudged  on  with  my  precious  freight  until  I  came 
to  a  hotel,  about  which  a  large  crowd  had  assembled. 
Here  I  stopped,  and,  stretching  my  neck  to  the  utmost 
capacity,  bawled  and  yelled  and  squealed  at  the  top  of 
my  voice. 

"What  do  you  mean,  you  incorrigible  scum?"  in- 
terrogated the  fair  patron  of  charity. 

"I'm  braying,  ma'am,"  retorted  I,  in  splendid  hu- 
mor. "All  first-class  donkeys  bray  when  they  meet  a 
drove  of  mules." 

"Go  'long,  muley;  go  on,  sir!"  shrieked  the  irate 
priestess  of  benevolence. 


w 
u 

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o 
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w 

J? 

w 

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o 

en 

O! 

W 
H 

W 

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oi 

a 

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fas 

Q 

l-H 

X 

C/3 


►-< 

en 

Z 
o 

o 
o 

m 


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o 

o 

c 


(221) 


222  Good  Gumption 

I  brayed  still  louder  as  her  anger  grew,  and  the 
whole  crowd,  attracted  by  my  unearthly  racket,  turned 
and  gazed  upon  the  novel  scene.  It  having  been 
noised  in  the  multitude  that  this  was  the  initial  ex- 
periment made  by  the  Society  for  the  Employment  of 
Vagabond  Youths,  the  spectators,  composed  of  visit- 
ors, cabmen,  newsboys,  draymen,  and  an  indesci"iba- 
ble  miscellany,  who  felt  no  special  sympathy  for  the 
Society,  waved  in  the  air  their  hats,  caps,  handker- 
chiefs, and  made  the  welkin  vibrate  with  cheers, 
shouts,  and  laughter. 

"Go  on,  muley — come  up,  sir!  Cluck!  cluck!  Get 
up,  you  vile  pest !"  shouted  the  enraged  angel  of  mercy. 

I  backed  my  ears,  and  kicked  up.  This  was  too 
much  for  the  old  woman.  She  got  out  of  the  cart, 
shook  her  fist  vigorously  a  time  or  two  over  my  head, 
and,  leading  me  past  the  crowd,  again  remounted  and 
drove  on.  Having  stopped  next  at  a  candy-stand, 
where  my  philanthropic  mistress  wished  to  purchase 
some  sweet  articles  for  her  grandchildren,  while  the 
confectioner  was  showing  his  samples  of  pastes,  loz- 
enges, fruits,  nuts,  and  taffies,  I  seated  myself  on  a 
box  of  lemons,  and  with  hungry  zeal  helped  myself 
with  both  hands  to  the  shopman's  choicest  fruits  and 
candies. 

"What  are  you  doing,  you  rogue !  I  see  now  that  it 
is  not  worth  while  to  try  to  elevate  you.  From  scum 
you  came  and  to  scum  you  shall  return.  You  are 
enough  to  test  the  patience  of  a  saint.  My  son  will 
turn  you  off  as  soon  as  you  get  back  home." 

"Madam,"  said  I,  with  unassumed  docility,  "all 
true,  genuine  mules  invariably  eat  when  they  come 


Paying  the  Hotel  Bill  223 

near  fodder.  The  mule  that  doesn't  eat  really  isn't 
worthy  of  being  a  mule." 

After  the  old  lady  had  laid  down  a  dollar  and  a 
quarter  for  the  damage  I  had  done,  we  moved  off  to- 
ward a  fashionable  portion  of  the  city,  where  I  met 
an  object  coming  down  the  street  that  aroused  my 
mulish  suspicious  and  excited  my  nerves.  I  began 
shying  and  backing. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you  now,  you  insufferable 
pest?"  cried  Mrs.  Hardcrust,  in  tones  of  undiminished 
wrath. 

"What's  that  thing  sliding  along  the  street?"  in- 
quired I,  timidly. 

"You  impertinent  dummy !  That's  the  daughter  of 
one  of  our  most  aristocratic  merchants.  Stop  your 
tricks,  and  go  on,  sir !" 

"Is  she  sick?'  asked  I,  trembling. 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir?  Have  you  never  seen  a 
young  lady's  head  adorned  with  frizzes  and  bangs?" 

"It's  mighty  curious,"  said  I,  with  increasing  fear, 
still  backing.     "Is  her  back  broken?" 

"You  ungracious  fool !  In  the  upper  circles  that  is 
what  would  be  called  a  decided  case  of  the  Grecian 
bend.    Come  up,  sirf 

Remembering  that  Bucephalus  had  taken  fright  un- 
der similar  circumstances,  and  resolving  that  it  was 
wholly  mulic  so  to  do,  I  scared,  snorted,  and  ran  away 
I  kicked,  I  ran,  I  plunged.  Mrs.  Hardcrust  screamed. 
I  told  her  to  stay  in,  and  that  I  was  perfectly  safe.  So 
I  tore  down  the  street,  with  about  twenty-five  men  and 
boys  behind  me,  reaching,  at  length,  at  the  intersection 
of  a  cross  street,  a  curbstone,  against  which  the  outer 


224  Good  Gumption 

wheel  of  the  cart  struck  as  I  turned  the  corner,  fling- 
ing Her  Angelic  Highness  unconscious,  though  un- 
hurt, on  the  sidewalk.  In  my  fright  I  met  and  scat- 
tered a  procession,  upset  a  crate  of  eggs,  made  five 
drays  run  away,  jumped  over  a  baby-carriage  and 
spilled  a  pair  of  twins,  ran  over  a  spectacled  swell,  and 
dispersed  a  crowd  gathered  around  an  organ-grinder. 
After  running  three  squares,  I  broke  loose  from  the 
cart  and  rounded  up  at  my  hotel,  the  Ne  Plus  Ultra. 

It  was  not  long  before  an  immense  concourse  of  peo- 
ple assembled  at  the  hotel  to  see  me.  When  I  had 
made  a  brief  recital  of  my  honest  effort  to  be  a  true 
mule,  according  to  contract,  in  order  to  pay  my  hotel 
bill,  a  newsboy,  stating  that  I  had  been  worth  ten  dol- 
lars a  day  to  his  business  for  the  past  week,  passed 
around  his  hat  for  a  collection.  Everybody  threw  in 
something,  while  a  reporter  gave  five  dollars,  on  the 
ground  that  I  had  benefited  his  paper  five  hundred 
dollars;  and  a  clergyman  gave  ten  dollars,  because  I 
had  broken  up  a  selfish  and  unchristian  society  by  giv- 
ing practical  proof  that  a  man  cannot  be  elevated  by 
making  a  brute  of  him.  He  said  the  moral  lesson  I 
had  inculcated  was  worth  a  thousand  sermons. 

Thus  I  paid  my  bill,  and  took  leave  of  my  enthusias- 
tic friends,  who  said  they  wished  I  would  stay  in  their 
city  a  month,  and  that,  if  I  ever  returned,  they  would 
meet  me  at  the  railway  station  with  a  band  of  music, 
and  pay  my  board  as  long  as  I  saw  fit  to  stay,  simply 
on  the  ground  that  I  was  a  public  benefactor. 

But  I  was  not  to  leave  the  City  of  Brotherly  Love 
without  a  further  demonstration  from  the  people  of 
the  place.    They  insisted  that  I  be  escorted  to  the  rail- 


Paying  the  Hotel  Bill  225 

way  station  with  suitable  pomp  and  eclat,  and,  of 
course,  I  had  no  means  of  resisting  their  will,  al- 
though it  cost  my  natural  retiring  modesty  of  demean- 
or a  great  effort  to  accede  to  their  wishes.  The  news- 
papers and  some  of  the  more  active  pastors  got  to- 
gether and  provided  a  brass  band  while  a  company  of 
militia  did  the  military  honors  of  the  occasion,  escort- 
ing me  to  the  train  as  though  I  were  a  great  con- 
queror, forming  in  two  lines  at  the  entrance  to  the 
train-shed  and  presenting  arms  as  I  passed  through 
to  the  cars. 

And  I  forgot  to  mention  the  photographer  who  took 
my  picture.  Just  before  I  left  the  hotel  on  my  trium- 
phal way  to  the  railroad  station  he  made  his  appear- 
ance and  offered  me  several  hundred  photographs  of 
myself,  saying  that  he  had  been  greatly  honored  in 
having  photographed  such  a  celebrity  as  Heredity 
Beans  and  he  gladly  would  give  me  the  pictures  free 
of  charge  if  I  would  permit  him  to  retain  the  nega- 
tives and  put  them  on  sale.  He  said  he  expected  to 
make  a  lot  of  money  thereby.  I  hope  he  did. 
15 


/    RAISE    SOME    SPIRITS 


Chapter  XVIII. 

People  like  to  be  fooled,  provided  they  have  the 
privilege  of  paying  for  it.  Now  I  don't  pretend  to  be 
the  Christopher  Columbus  who  discovered  this  fact; 
some  fellow  ages  ago  found  it  out  first  and  doubt- 
less worked  it  upon  his  fellow-citizens.  But  I  repeat 
it  just  now  because  when  I  went  back  to  Shakerag 
the  desire  seized  me  to  break  up  a  certain  growing 
leaning  toward  spiritualism  in  Toadville  and  to  learn 
if  the  people  of  my  own  neighborhood  were  quite  as 
easily  gulled  as  those  in  Philadelphia.  Not  one  man 
in  ten  cares  a  gingercake  for  a  prescription  that  a  rep- 
utable physician  presents  to  him  free  of  charge,  but  a 
mixture  of  paregoric  and  pepper  modified  by  some 
flavoring  extract,  the  whole  claiming  to  heal  all  dis- 
ease and  to  work  miracles,  and  purporting  to  have 
been  discovered  accidentally  by  some  old  woman  or 
some  defunct  Indian  doctor,  takes  well  with  the  pub- 
lic at  a  dollar  a  bottle.  And  on  his  dying  bed,  the  man 
who  takes  it  will,  in  all  probability,  scribble  a  testimo- 
nial swearing  it  cured  him.  And  so,  then,  men  want 
to  be  fooled  and,  of  course,  they  have  a  fooler.  The 
supply  and  demand  of  both  commodities  seem  to  regu- 
late one  another.     Occasionally,  however,  the  to  be 

fooled  element  predominates. 
(226) 


I  Raise  Some  Spirits  227 

According]}',  upon  my  return  to  Shakerag,  which  I 
kept  secret  from  every  living  soul  but  Jack  Cheese- 
quakes  and  the  cook  (whose  silence  and  commissarial 
services  I  secured  at  the  rate  of  lo  cents  a  day)  the 
'following  card  was  brought  out  in  the  "Toadville 
Times"  and  afterwards  posted  at  every  crossroads  in 
the  county  as  well  as  upon  the  door  of  Shouting 
Church.     It  explains  itself: 

IVOTICE!    IVOTICE!    IVOTICE! 

Notice  is  hereby  given  to  a  confiding  and  appre- 
ciative public  that  Prof.  Ytidereh  Snaeb,  late  of 
Philadelphia,  who  has  startled  the  world  in  spiritual 
manifestations,  having  actually  captured  a  ghost  long 
enough  to  secure  an  ethereal  veil,  will  hold  a  seance 
in  Odd  Fellow's  Hall,  at  Toadville,  on  Friday  night, 
the  i8th  inst. 

The  Professor  will  make  startling  revelations  from 
the  dead,  exhibit  the  captured  veil,  and  perform  all 
the  feats  of  a  master  medium.  The  performance  will 
conclude  with  the  materialization  of  Balaam's  Ass,  a 
success  never  attempted  by  any  other  spiritualist. 

ADMISSION,  25    CENTS. 
Payable  at  the  dose  of  the  Entertainment. 

At  the  appointed  hour  my  stage  was  ready,  my 
curtains  in  ■  place,  and  everything  just  right  for  a 
grand  seance.  Odd  Fellows'  Hall  was  crowded  to 
discomfort  by  sunset.  There  never  has  been,  and  in 
my  judgment,  there  never  will  be,  such  an  excitement, 
until  the  last  great  day.  There  were  not  a  few  of  the 
simple  folk  of  Toadville,  who,  having  repeatedly  heard 
rumors  of  the  marvelous  performances  of  traveling 


228  Good  Gumption 

mediums,  Ijelieved  they  were  true.  Many  of  this  class 
of  people  found  comfort  in  the  modest  .nature  of  my 
*'ad"  as  well  as  in  my  name,  which  seemed  to  have  the 
right  ring — Prof.  Ytidereh  Snaeb.  Some  declared 
it  was  German,  some  testified  that  it  was  French,  while' 
others  affirmed  that  it  was  of  Egyptian  origin,  and 
the  title  of  the  old  magicians.  None  of  them  had  suffi- 
cient good  gumption  to  see  that  it  was  Heredity  Beans 
spelled  backwards.  And  just  at  that  moment  I  did 
not  wish  them  to  know  me. 

At  a  given  signal,  understood  by  Jack,  all  the  lights 
were  extinguished  save  an  unsnuffed  tallow  candle 
in  the  rear  of  the  hall,  causing  a  state  of  things  most 
dismal,  it  is  true,  but  suited  to  the  predilections  of  the 
spirits.  Not  a  whisper  disturbed  the  silence  that 
brooded  over  the  concourse  of  humanity.  In  disguise, 
I  appeared  promptly  on  the  stage,  with  elastic  tread, 
as  if  I  myself  were  just  from  phantomdom.  I  think 
some  thought  I  was.  There's  not  a  bit  of  doubt  but 
that  I  looked  the  role. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  I,  in  making  my  salu- 
tation, and  my  voice  faltering  a  bit  as  I  l^eheld  the 
deep  interest  my  father  was  taking  in  the  perform- 
ance, and  my  eye  met  the  innocent  gaze  of  Polytechnic 
Campbell.  "It  is  the  custom  of  quacks  to  speak  so 
vaguely  that  their  utterances  may  apply-  to  the  per- 
sons they  claim  to  call  up,  or  to  anybody  else.  They 
speak  of  matters  that  are  known  only  to  few,  and  thus 
narrow  their  chances  of  detection.  I  prefer,  then, 
as  this  is  my  first  seance  among  you,  and  from  the 
nature  of  my  mission  likely  to  be  the  hst,  to  reproduce 
spirits  familiar  to  you  all :  and  in  order  that  you  may 


I   Raise  Some  Spirits  229 

be  satisfied  of  the  integrity  of  my  claim  to  be  the  lead- 
ing spiritualist  of  the  age,  I  now  place  myself  at  your 
service  as  a  medium,  to  answer  accurately  whatever 
questions  you  may  see  fit  to  propound  and  to  material- 
ize any  dead  persons  you  may  name." 

"Call  up  old  Captain  Billy  ^^'inter,"  said  Jack 
Cheesequakes,  by  instruction,  for  he  and  I  had  planned 
the  seance  carefully, 

"Captain.  Winter  is  present,"  said  I,  in  a  dismal 
voice,  to  the  vast  assembly.  "He  says  he  spent  much 
of  his  life  as  a  soldier,  having  served  in  the  struggle 
of  1812  and  in  the  Mexican  War.  And  having  been 
an  oflficer  he  will  indicate  his  presence  by  firing  a  mili- 
tary salute." 

As  I  uttered  the  last  word  I  trod  on  a  torpedo,  which 
exploded  with  a  sound  like  a  pistol.  Several  ladies 
fainted  and  several  others  took  a  turn  at  hvsterics, 
while  a  couple  of  old  rustics  sought  the  fresh  air 
through  an  open  window.  But  things  soon  settled 
down  into  good  order. 

"Now,"  continued  I,  "Captain  Winter  is  ready  to 
respond  to  inquiries." 

Nobody  seemed  anxious  to  encounter  the  old  hero 
and  Captain  Billy  was  dismissed  without  further  de- 
position. Inasmuch  as  the  old  veteran  passed  ofif 
without  doing  any  serious  damage  the  audience  was 
reassured,  and  began  to  test  me  with  a  variety  of  in- 
terrogations, some  of  which,  I  must  confess,  were  of 
the  foolish  variety. 

"Where  is  Uncle  Spasmodic,  who  died  a  week  ago?" 
inquired  an  affectionate  nephew.  This  question  was 
the  more  delicate,  as  the  gentleman  referred  to  had 


230  Good  Gumption 

been  for  thirty  years  chief  captain  of  the  mourners' 
bench  at  Shouting  Church,  and  was  esteemed  an  ideal 
by  a  host  of  relatives,  but  an  arrant  humbug  by  every- 
body else.  But  I  gave  them  an  answer  that  satisfied 
both  factions.  Incidentally,  the  man  that  can  do  this 
sort  of  thing  is  a  pretty  good  politician. 

"Your  Uncle  Spas  says  he  feels  too  warmly  on  so 
grave  a  subject  to  speak  with  ease,"  said  I,  feelingly; 
''and  his  spirit  is  not  sufficiently  cool  for  him  to  de- 
liver himself  without  considerable  pains.  He  is 
grieved  that  it  is  expedient  to  impress  the  audience 
with  a  burning  silence,  which,  under  the  circum- 
stances, will  prove  the  most  flaming  eloquence;  and 
he  assures  Jiis  friends  that  if  he  stated  the  case  in  full 
it  would  lead  to  confusion,  and  a  heated  controversy, 
which  would  only  destroy  his  peace  of  mind  and  tor- 
ment him  with  fiery  indignation." 

"Poor  Uncle  Spas!"  vociferated  a  small  multitude 
of  doting  kin.  "Poor  old  man!"  "Poor,  poor  Uncle 
Spas!" — and  there  was  wailing  and  lamentation.  I 
now  had  complete  control  of  the  audience,  who  re- 
ceived my  utterances  as  with  the  authoritative  seal  of 
infallibility.  I  justly  could  consider  myself  in  the  wiz- 
ard-oracle class. 

"How  old  is  Miss  Dorothy  Squizzle?"  asked  a  cap- 
tious youth. 

Let  me  state  just  here  that  Miss  Dorothy  was,  per- 
haps, the  most  conspicuous  figure  in  Toadville  society, 
being  a  leader  in  certain  styles  of  fashion,  and  an  ulti- 
mate authority  in  all  matters  of  etiquette.  Though 
three  generations  of  youths  had  practiced  courtship 
upon  her,  she  was  still  a  reigning  belle  with  old  bache- 


I  Raise  Some  Spirits  231 

lors  and  widowers.  Miss  Dorothy  was  an  excellent 
woman,  but  morbidly  sensitive  touching  the  question 
of  age.  Many  attempts  had  been  made  to  ascertain 
this  very  important  matter,  but  the  Sphinx  being  un- 
favorable, and  the  family  record  having  been  torn 
out  of  the  ancestral  Bible,  the  secret  was  still  embos- 
omed in  mystery.  There  was  but  one  appeal,  and  that 
was  to  a  medium,  for  the  court  of  appeals,  upon  whose 
bench  sat  Miss  Dorothy  herself,  had  adjourned 
sine  die. 

It  was  now  that  Mr.  Turkey  Thompson,  who  had 
been  recently  left  a  widower  the  third  time,  was  again 
renewed  in  the  spirit  of  his  youth,  and  was  paying 
his  tenderest  addresses  to  Miss  Squizzle.  He  had 
actually  on  one  occasion,  in  an  evening  stroll,  leaped 
over  a  fence  three  rails  high  to  convince  his  Dorothy 
that  he  retained  the  agility  of  his  boyhood.  It  laid 
him  up  for  a  week,  but  of  course  he  never  said  any- 
thing about  that.  It  was  all  over  now  but  the  wedding, 
and  both  were  seated  lovingly  together  in  the  audience. 
Therefore  the  interrogatory  propounded  to  the  me- 
dium, at  such  a  time  and  under  such  circumstances, 
was  indeed  most  cruel,  and  fell  upon  Miss  Dorothy's 
ear  like  a  peal  of  thunder  from  a  clear  sky.  In  spite 
of  the  supposed  presence  of  spirits,  she  gave  way  to 
her  emotions. 

''Oh!  don't  tell!"  she  whispered  excitedly.  "Oh! 
don't  tell !    Please  don't !" 

But  the  inexorable  medium,  pledged  to  the  audience 
to  answer  all  questions,  had  to  respond.  "Miss  Squiz- 
zle," it  said  in  funeral  accents,  "has  stopped' being  old, 
but  thirty  years  ago  she  was  forty-nine." 


232  Good  Gumption 

"Story!  Story!  Big  story!  It's  not  so,  Mr. 
Thompson;  I'm  only  an  advanced  girl!"  ejaculated 
Miss  Dorothy,  but  Mr.  Thompson's  visage,  in  the 
sickly  glimmer  of  the  unsnuffed  tallow  candle,  was 
the  scene  of  unmistakable  horror,  as  he  sat  with  his 
hands  on  his  knees,  bending  over,  and  gazing  with 
mingled  feelings  of  devotion  and  regret  into  the 
flushed  phiz  of  Miss  Dorothy. 

Always  a  lover  of  justice,  seeing  Miss  Squizzle  was 
placed  at  a  disadvantage,  I  announced  the  presence 
of  a  spirit  who  wanted  to  speak  with  Mr.  Thompson. 

"Who  is  it?"  asked  that  gentleman,  with  no  small 
embarrassment,  Miss  Dorothy,  too,  showing  consid- 
erable interest. 

"It  is  your  third  wife,"  said  I,  and  Mr.  Thompson 
shamefacedly  bit  his  lips,  while  his  doting  companion 
raised  her  hands  in  consternation. 

"She  says  she  loves  you  still;"  I  said,  as  if  translat- 
ing for  the  spirit,  "and  is  often  comforted  by  your  as- 
surances that  you  never  could  love  and  never  would 
marry  again.  She  approves  the  views  of  marriage 
you  used  to  express — that  he  who  weds  more  than 
three  times  seeks  a  cook,  not  a  wife.  Be  true  to  your 
convictions,  dear  Turkey.    Adieu." 

Miss  Squizzle  at  this  statement  from  the  dear  de- 
parted stamped  her  feet,  as  if  to  shake  the  dust  of  con- 
templated matrimony  from  them,  and  moved  three 
feet  from  Mr.  Thompson,  whose  attitude  cannot  now 
be  described. 

"Call  up  the  Devil,"  demanded  Toothpick  Wheazles, 
with  an  air  of  great  importance ;  "I  want  to  see  the  old 
brother." 


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(233) 


234  Good  Gumption 

''His  Majesty  is  present,"  said  I.  "He  wishes  me 
to  say  that  he  does  not  hke  his  children  to  call  him 
brother,  and  especially  young  Mr.  Wheazles,  who  is 
one  of  his  best-beloved  sons."  A  titter  ran  over  the 
audience;  then  all  were  awed  again  as  the  conversa- 
tion between  Toothpick  and  Old  Nick  began.  I  re- 
port it  word  for  word : 

Toothpick  (assuming  a  skeptical  attitude) :  Any 
room  below  ? 

Satan  (resignedly):  A  little;  though  the  higher 
critics  are  taking  it  fast.  But  I  have  a  nice  place  for 
you.     [Suppressed  giggles.] 

Toothpick  (trying  to  control  timid  nerves) :  What 
do  you  think  of  Heredity  Beans  ? 

Satan  :  I  have  tried  Beans ;  but  he  is  incorruptible. 
He  comes  from  the  best  stock  in  the  world.  [My  fa- 
ther smiled  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  while  Polytechnic 
clapped  her  hands  unconsciously,  and  blushed.] 

Toothpick  (zvith  anxiety) :  What  girl  will  he 
marry  ? 

Satan:  The  prettiest  girl  that  ever  walked  the 
streets  of  Toadville.  Would  you  like  to  see  her  pic- 
ture? [The  pretty  girls  unwittingly  caress  their  hair, 
the  ugly  ones  sigh,  and  a  few  faint.  "Yes ;  yes !"  from 
every  part  of  the  hall.  Father  anxious,  Polytechnic 
nervous,  Mrs.  Campbell  grave.] 

Satan  (continuing) :  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  re- 
gret to  leave  such  congenial  company,  but  there  are 
places  that  need  me  more.  A  thousand  preachers  are 
waiting  for  me  to  help  them  get  up  a  sensational  ser- 
mon for  Sunday  evening,  and  I  cannot  disappoint 
these  faithful  workers  without  detriment  to  my  king- 


I  Raise  Some  Spirits  235 

dom.  Besides,  I  must  give  considerable  attention  to 
our  Sunday  papers.  I  will  see  you  later.  Here,  as 
you  desired,  is  the  picture  of  the  future  Mrs.  Heredity 
Beans. 

Then,  by  means  of  a  cheap  magic  lantern  which  I 
had  procured,  I  threw  Polytechnic's  beautiful  face  on 
a  screen  provided  for  that  purpose.  Then  Satan  left, 
and  his  departure  was  celebrated  by  the  ignition  of  a 
small  saucer  of  gunpowder. 

The  scene  that  followed  is  quite  beyond  my  powers 
of  description.  Most  of  the  audience  were  converted 
to  spiritualism,  and  not  a  few  wanted  to  call  up  Satan 
again. 

Having  told  the  ages  of  all  the  old  bachelors,  bach- 
eloresses,  widows,  and  widowers  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  having  revealed  all  the  secrets  any  one  cared  to 
conceal  or  to  know,  I  held  up  the  captured  ghost's 
veil,  thereby  causing  several  screams  on  the  part  of 
the  women,  and  several  hasty  exits  on  the  part  of 
the  men. 

"On  a  corner  of  the  veil,"  said  I,  holding  it  up  in 
the  gloomy  light,  "is  written  the  name  of  its  owner, 
one  Nest-egg."  This  announcement  created  the  most 
profound  silence.  "Nest-egg  tells  me  this  is  the  veil  of 
charity  he  brings  back  to  earth  to  throw  over  the  souls 
of  those  whose  energies  are  exhausted  at  the  mourn- 
ers' bench,  and  whose  religion  consists  in  pious  talk 
rather  than  pious  deeds — the  people  who  fooled  him 
when  living  and  deserted  him  when  dying."  Many 
sighs  and  confessions  followed. 

I  next  informed  the  audience  that  the  curtain  Avould 
fall,  and  after  a  lapse  of  ten  minutes  Balaam's  naked 


236  Good  Gumption 

animal  of  burden  would  appear  in  tangible  form  upon 
the  stasfe.  This  with  manv  was  the  event  of  the  even- 
ing,  and  expectation  was  on  tiptoe — so  were  two- 
thirds  of  the  people.  Boys  crawled  upon  the  shoulders 
of  men  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  phantom.  Finally  I 
led  Bucephalus  up  an  inclined  plane  (though  it  was 
plain  he  was  not  inclined)  prepared  for  the  purpose, 
through  the  back  door,  and  located  him  with  his  head 
toward  the  audience.  A  sheet  loosely  thrown  over 
him  surrounded  him  with  all  the  solemnity  and  rever* 
ence  due  so  noted  a  ghost.  Death-like  silence  brooded 
over  every  part  of  the  auditorium. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  I,  "this  is  the  first 
edition  of  Balaam's  ass,  the  phenomenon  of  the  age, 
the  sublimest  achievement  of  spirtualism.  That  you 
may  have  no  doubt  as  to  his  identity,  I  shall  distribute 
several  photographs  of  his  master  in  a  moment.  In- 
asmuch as  I  am  an  apostle  of  reformation,  and  my 
aim  is  not  to  make  money  but  to  promote  truth,  T 
have  concluded  not  to  collect  an  admission  fee  from 
all  of  you  but  to  ask  ]\Ir.  Turkey  Thompson  and  Mr. 
Toothpick  \Mieazles  to  pay  for  the  hire  of  the  hall  and 
the  advertising.  They  have  had  a  lot  of  fun  as  well 
as  hearing  things  the}^  wanted  to  know.  I'm  sure  you 
will  see  to  it  that  they  pay  up.  And  now  I  ask  you  to 
accept  my  sincere  thanks  for  your  close  attention ;  and 
I  leave  with  you  several  pictures  of  Balaam  (scatter- 
ing about  seventy-five  of  my  Philadelphia  photo- 
graphs) for  sacred  mementos  in  coming  years.  Good- 
night !" 

As  these  words  sounded  like  an  echo  from  the  dead 
in  the  ears  of  a  breathless  assemblage,  I  mounted  Bu- 


I  Raise  Some  Spirits  .  237 

cephalus  and  darted  through  the  back  door  into  the 
dark  night,  riding  a  ghost. 

As  you  may  suppose,  I  found  it  expedient  for  me  to 
absent  myself  from  the  neighborhood  a  couple  of 
weeks,  in  order  that  time  might  soften  all  asperities. 
I  had,  of  course,  ofifended  everybody  in  the  commu- 
nity, besides  breaking  up  several  contemplated  mar- 
riages and  proving  the  Toadville  spiritualists  to  be 
fools.  But  the  joke  was  so  stupendous,  the  seance  so 
ludicrous,  and  the  people  so  completely  taken  in,  that 
in  a  few  weeks  pretty  nearly  all  hands  forgave  me, 
and  even  Miss  Dorothy  smiled  on  me  again.  Mr. 
Thompson  has  not  smiled  yet,  nor  has  Mr.  Wheazles, 
but  I  understand  on  good  authority  that  they  may 
do  so  soon. 

At  all  events  my  object  was  achieved — I  had  sought 
to  break  up  spiritualism  in  Toadville,  and  I  certainly 
did.  I  don't  think  it  will  be  safe  for  any  man  to  pro- 
pose a  seance  in  that  village  for  a  century  to  come. 


THE  HOUSE  THAT  JACK  BUILT 


Chapter   XIX. 


For  some  days  I  had  been  thinking  between  times 
about  ecclesiastical  matters,  and  at  last  I  found  my- 
self hanging  on  the  horns  of  a  most  perplexing  tri- 
lemma.  My  father  belonged  to  the  school  of  Wesley, 
my  mother  was  a  Quaker,  while  Polytechnic  leaned 
in  quite  another  direction.  Puzzled  by  this  variety  of 
opinions  and  conflicting  creeds  among  my  dear  and 
near,  I  resolved  to  construct  a  church  of  my  own,  on 
a  basis  that  all  sane  people  could  accept.  Why  should 
I  not  invent  a  theology?  Had  not  a  number  of  the 
mighty  spirits  of  the  past  done  the  same  thing? 

I  was  completely  carried  away  with  my  scheme, 
and  without  any  difficulty,  except  that  of  paying  for 
it,  got  a  patent  thereon.  The  wisdom  and  necessity 
of  forming  a  church  in  the  light  of  the  New  Theology 
became  more  apparent  every  few  seconds.  I  took  no 
little  satisfaction  in  the  thought  that  I  was  to  be  the 
world's  greatest  religious  benefactor,  and  that  all  gen- 
erations would  owe  me  a  debt  of  boundless  gratitude. 
What  a  pity  I  had  not  been  born  several  centuries 
sooner!  As  the  apostle  of  church-building,  I  set  out 
to  construct  a  doctrinal  house  that  would  hold  every- 
body— to  frame  a  creed  that  would  be  adapted  to  men, 
women,  children,  and  even  the  higher  class  of  mon- 
(238) 


The  House  That  Jack  Built        239 

keys.  In  prophetic  mazes  I  saw  the  petty  sects  into 
which  Christendom  is  divided  vanishing  as  the  morn- 
ing dew;  I  beheld  opposing  creeds  clasping  hands  on 
the  broad  foundation  of  my  new  house;  and  in  my 
mind's  eye  I  descried  a  gorgeous  temple  filling  the 
earth,  on  whose  mammoth  door  was  written  in  letters 
of  mud  trimmed  with  monkey  tails,  "Wide  Is  The 
Gate:  Walk  In!" 

Since  no  time  was  to  be  lost,  as  a  first  step  and  with 
entire  unanimity,  I  elected  myself  Bishop.  Of  course, 
nobody  could  object  to  that.  This  wisely  and  satis- 
factorily done,  I  drew  up  the  following  Constitution, 
Articles  of  Faith,  etc. : 

CONSTITUTION. 

(Based  on  the  Declaration  of  Independence.) 

When,  in  the  course  of  doctrinal  squabbles  and 
scientific  mists,  it  becomes  necessary  to  squelch 
the  sects  that  mar  the  peace  of  Zion,  and  to  anni- 
hilate the  differences  that  separate  partisans,  it 
behooves  the  Bishop  of  the  New  Theology  to  as- 
sume, among  the  theologians  of  the  earth,  the 
separate  and  superior  station  to  which  the  evan- 
gel of  dirt  and  his  own  inner  consciousness  en- 
title him. 

The  Evolved  Church  holds  these  truths  to  be 
self-evident:  that  all  men  have  a  right  to  do  as 
they  please;  that  all  women  are  born  free  and 
loquacious;  and  that  all  babies  are  born  bare- 
footed. That,  furthermore,  all  mortals,  whether 
males  or  females  or  women  preachers,  have  cer- 


240  Good  Gumption 

tain  inalienable  privileges;  that  among  these  are 
matrimony,  political  chicanery,  and  the  pursuit 
of  religious  novelties.  That  to  secure  these  rights 
the  New  Theolog}^  is  preached  among  men,  de- 
riving its  just  powers  and  unique  ordinances  from 
the  supreme  authority  of  the  Gospel  of  Mud  and 
the  Science  of  Mrs.  Eddy;  that  when  any  creed 
becomes  destructive  of  these  ends,  it  is  the  right 
of  any  man,  male  or  female,  who  has  a  vivid  im- 
agination, to  alter,  abolish,  or  swallow  it,  and  to 
institute  a  new  church,  laying  its  foundation  on 
such  dogs,  dogmas,  or  doggerels,  and  prescrib- 
ing its  ordinances  in  such  forms  as  shall  seem 
to  him  most  likely  to  satisfy  his  vanity.  Pru- 
dence, indeed,  w411  dictate  that  rituals  long  estab- 
lished should  not  be  changed  for  light  and  tran- 
sient causes ;  but  when  a  long  train  of  authenti- 
cated doctrines  and  canons,  shooting  invariably  at 
the  same  object,  evinces  a  design  to  make  the  hu- 
man race  behave  itself,  it  is  the  right,  yea,  the 
duty,  of  mankind  to  knock  such  church  govern- 
ment into  a  cocked  hat,  and  to  provide  new  creeds 
to  amuse  themselves  and  their  children. 

I,  therefore.  Bishop-elect  and  Apostle  Plenipo- 
tentiary of  the  New  Theology,  in  solemn  convoca- 
tion of  one,  do,  in  the  name  and  by  the  authority 
of  the  said  dignitary,  publish  and  declare,  that 
the  aforesaid  church  is,  and  of  right  ought  to  be, 
free  and  independent  (if  not,  why  so?) ;  that  it 
outstrips  all  other  churches,  and,  according  to 
the  eternal  fitness  of  things,  as  a  free  and  inde- 
pendent church,  it  has  full  power  to  raise  a  row, 


The   House  That  Jack  Built         241 

break  the  peace,  or  found  a  dancing-school,  and 
cut  all  other  capers  which  an  independent  church 
may  of  right  cut.    Selah. 

This  church  shall  be  known  as  The  House 
That  Jack  Built,  whose  sublime  mission  shall 
be  so  to  blend  the  Church  and  the  World,  that  all 
conditions  of  mankind  may  be  united  in  one  har- 
monious hole. 

ARTICLES  OF  FAITH. 

Article  i.  The  world  is  the  result  of  a  fortui- 
tous concourse  of  atoms,  and  is  a  mighty  funny 
thing  anyhow. 

Article  2.  Man  came  from  a  lobster ;  and  after 
the  vicissitudes  of  a  brief  existence,  he  is  gathered 
unto  his  fathers  in  the  Kingdom  of  Mud. 

Article  3.  It  is  impossible  for  a  man  ever  to 
know  anything  in  this  life ;  and  it  is  the  supreme 
end  of  his  ambition  to  make  money,  tell  stale 
jokes,  guess  at  the  age  of  the  world,  play  the 
fool,  and  die  an  agnostic. 

Article  4.  Wisdom  consists  in  denying  what 
has  been  proved  for  six  thousand  years,  extin- 
guishing all  possible  lights,  deifying  abstrac- 
tions, abstracting  Deity,  and  turning  the  Ten 
Commandments  into  a  muddle. 

Article  5.  Do  others  before  they  do  vou,  and 
do  'em  brown. 

CATECHISM. 

What  is  you  name? 

Answer:  Bill. 

Who  gave  you  this  name  ? 
16 


242  Good  Gumption 

Answer:  Pap. 

What  else  did  he  give  you  ? 

Answer:  A  top  and  a  tin  horn. 

Name  the  Apostles. 

Anszver:  Darwin,  Wallace,  Huxley,  Haeckel, 
Mill,  Spencer,  Mrs.  Eddy. 

Who  was  Mrs.  Eddy? 

Answer:  She  was  a  Baker. 

What  did  she  bake  ? 

Anszver:  She  roasted  three  husbands. 

What  is  mind  ? 

Anszver:  No  matter. 

What  is  matter? 

Anszver:  Never  mind. 

What  can  you  say  of  sickness? 

Answer:  In  sickness  and  pain  nothing  is  the 
matter,  since  there  is  no  matter. 

What  is  sin? 

Answer:  Sin  is  faulty  imagination. 

What  are  natural  objects? 

Answer:  Things  not  what  they  seem. 

What  is  Evolution? 

Anszver:  It  is  the  science  of  glorified  dirt. 

What  put  Darwin  on  the  track  of  Evolution  ? 

Answer:  He  smelt  a  rat. 

THE  ORDINANCE  OF  SKINNING-THE- 

CAT. 

Whereas,  much  prejudice  hath  arisen  because 
of  the  inscrutable  mystery  of  the  ordinances,  the 
church,  of  her  own  sovereign  will,  doth  deem  it 
meet  and  right  to  institute  a  single  act,  to  be 


The  House  That  Jack  Built        243 

known  as  the  Scientific  Ordinance  of  Skinning- 
the-Cat.  This  rite  the  church  doth  understand  to 
take  the  place  of  baptism,  being  a  more  active 
expression  of  that  Hvely  change  through  which 
the  heavenly  pilgrim  is  required  to  pass,  meeting 
on  the  one  hand  the  exactions  of  the  Scripture — 
viz.,  a  revolution  of  heart;  and  on  the  other,  the 
demands  of  Science — viz.,  an  evolution  of  the 
body. 

The  candidate  shall  be  blindfolded  by  the 
priest,  and  led  backwards  by  the  same,  to  the  left- 
hand  corner  of  the  church,  where  he  shall  sit,  in 
the  presence  of  the  congregation,  on  a  stool  cov- 
ered with  sheepskin,  which  the  church  doth  in- 
terpret to  be  symbolic  of  innocence.  After  a  si- 
lence of  three  minutes,  the  priest  shall  unbandage 
the  candidate,  who,  while  the  choir  chants  an  ap- 
propriate psalm,  shall  skin-the-cat  to  the  best  of 
his  ability;  whereupon  he  shall  have  the  sign  of 
the  Happy  Horse-Shoe  made  on  the  back  of  his 
neck,  and  be  declared  to  be  in  fellowship  with  the 
New  Theology. 

Women,  seeing  they  cannot  conveniently  sub- 
mit to  this  rite,  shall  be  excused ;  howbeit,  they 
shall  be  required  to  hold  their  tongues  with 
gravity  on  the  Movable  Feast  of  the  New 
Moon. 

Should  any  be  skeptical  touching  the  authori- 
ty for  this  rite,  he  shall  be  referred  to  those  pas- 
sages of  Dictionary  Writ  involving  the  idea  of 
turning,  and  such  words  as  convert,  converted, 
pervert,  perverted,  divert,  diverted,  etc.     No  act 


244  Good  Gumption 

so  fitly  expresses  this  turning  as  skinning-the- 
cat;  therefore,  any  prejudiced  mind  will  frankly 
admit  that  this  impressive  and  beautiful  ordi- 
nance is  both  Dictionarial  and  scientific.  Nay, 
more,  the  world  is  full  of  symbols  of  this  act.  The 
earth  itself  turns  around ;  the  autumn  leaves  turn 
brown;  and  the  average  mule  turns  over.  The 
priest  shall  so  expound. 

THE  SEVEN  WONDERS  OF  CHRISTIAN 

SCIENCE. 

1.  Sin  is  not  evil. 

2.  Everything  is  nothing. 

3.  A  dead  man  isn't  dead. 

4.  A  ten-dollar  gold  piece  is  an  idea — a  good 
one. 

5.  The  father  of  this  cult  is  a  woman. 

6.  Pain  is  a  freak  of  the  fancy;  that  is,  the 
other  fellow's  fancy. 

7.  Cramp  colic  has  its  seat  in  the  imagination 
— that  is,  after  it  sits  down. 

VESPER  SONG. 

BY    ANN    O  N  Y  M  O  U  S  . 

As  a  rule,  a  man's  a  fool ; 

When  it's  hot. 
He  wants  it  cool ; 
When  it's  cool, 

He  wants  it  hot; 
Always  wanting 

What  is  not; 
Never  liking 

What  he's  got. 
As  a  rule,  a  man's  a  fool. 


The  House  That  Jack  Built        245 

BENEDICTION. 

Omnific  Mud,  from  which  we  come,  and  in 
which  we  abide,  keep  us  in  harmony  with  thy- 
self, and  at  last  receive  us  into  thy  kingdom. 
O.  K. 

The  House  that  Jack  Built  was  now  complete.  It 
was  a  large  structure,  with  plenty  of  room;  lighted 
by  gas  and  heated  by  ideas ;  and  since  it  was  dedicated 
to  the  god  Mud,  it  was  without  a  bathroom.  I'm  quite 
sure,  even  at  this  day,  that  it  was  ten  thousand  times 
ten  thousand  per  cent  better  than  some  of  the  cults 
flying  around  now  and  masquerading  as  religions  be- 
cause it  didn't  outrage  God  and  Christianity.  I  showed 
the  plan  of  my  church  to  a  number  of  the  higher 
critics  and  to  some  women  of  both  sexes,  all  of  whom 
were  loud  in  its  praise.  Many  prophesied  that  it  was 
destined  to  supersede  all  other  organizations,  and  be 
the  church  of  the  future.  Some  said  it  was  a  happy 
hit  to  found  a  religious  system  on  the  Declaration  of 
Independence,  so  that  a  man  need  not  be  over-particu- 
lar about  Scriptural  authority  for  every  little  thing 
he  does.  Not  a  few  thought  it  a  capital  idea  to  leave 
out  hell ;  others  held  that  the  omission  of  heaven  was 
timely.  All  declared  that  the  absence  of  the  Ten 
Commandments  indicated  progress.  A  multitude 
promised  to  join  me  when  I  got  things  started.  I 
truly  can  say  that  things  looked  most  hopeful  for  the 
success  of  my  church,  and  I  began  to  congratulate 
myself. 

But  one  morning  T  awoke  from  a  series  of  dreams 
in  which  the  devil  and  his  imps  chased  me,  prodding 


246  Good  Gumption 

me  with  pitchforks.  I  arose  and  began  to  dress,  and 
outside  I  heard  a  pig  grunt.  This  brought  me  to  my 
senses.  I  opened  two"  of  my  eyes  very  wide,  and  l)e- 
hold !  I  saw,  as  in  a  vision,  my  church  blown  to  pieces 
in  a  violent  storm,  for  I  had  neglected  to  put  any  foun- 
dation under  it.  So  right  then  and  there  I  went  out  to 
the  pig-pen  and  poured  out  the  ecclesiastical  garbage 
I  had  composed  as  proper  food  for  swine,  thus  forever 
abandoning  the  gospel  of  tommyrot  and  charlatanism. 
Then  I  decided  to  hasten  toward  Zion.  Two  months 
later  I  entered  a  theological  seminary.  Anyone  who 
wishes  may  have  the  job  I  created  as  Bishop  of  the 
New  Theology,  though  before  they  are  desecrated  to 
the  office  let  me  quote  to  them  the  words  of  the  Son 
of  God:  "Upon  this  rock  I  build  my  Church,  and  the 
gates  of  hell  shall  not  prevail  against  it." 

Just  remember  that,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Man-with- 
an-elastic-religious-conscience,  when  you  take  up  your 
work  as  the  Bishop  of  the  New  Theology.  Just  re- 
member it  also,  Mrs.  No-denomination-whatever, 
when  you  are  inclined  to  run  after  some  outlandish 
and  sacrilegious  and  newfangled  cult  gotten  up  by 
somebody  who  wants  to  fatten  his  own  purse  and  the 
list  of  guests  at  the  Devil's  boarding-house.  And  re- 
member it  also.  Reverend  Doctor  Bighead,  when  you 
come  to  study  over  the  Scriptures  to  find  some  new 
thing  to  propound  to  your  flock  and  lead  it  into  the  tor- 
tuous ways  of  schism  and  disbelief,  because  you  do  not 
stick  to  the  sort  of  gospel  you  learned  at  the  theolog- 
ical seminary  and  the  doctrine  that  your  fathers  in  the 
Church  taught.  Just  remember  it,  if  you  please,  Mr. 
Higher-critic,  when  you  seek  to  overturn  the  revealed 


o 
^; 

M 

O 

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CQ 

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o 

Eh 

O 

CQ 

:5 
o 

CO 

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< 


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O 

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(247) 


248  Good  Gumption 

truth  of  the  Book  of  Books.  Just  remember  it  and 
keep  on  remembering  it. 

If  you  forget  it,  as  I  came  near  doing,  the  things 
that  will  happen  to  you  will  be  many  and  terrible. 
Your  chance  of  explaining  your  position,  when  you 
come  to  answer  before  the  Great  Judge,  will  not  be 
the  sort  you  have  been  accustomed  to  having  down 
here  on  earth.  Your  audience  will  be  of  a  vastly  dif- 
ferent type  and  the  sophistries  you  have  handed  out 
here  will  not  pass  muster  as  logic  there.  The  justice 
that  will  be  dispensed  to  you  then  will  not  be  the  sort 
that  was  dispensed  to  our  acquaintance  Turnipins  a 
few  chapters  back. 

For  every  sin  you  committed  against  God,  Mr. 
Bishop-of-the-New-Theology,  you  will  have  to  pay 
doul:)le  to  the  Church  of  God.  For  every  sinful  thing 
that  your  silly  brain  thought,  Mrs.  No-denomination- 
whatever,  you  will  have  to  answer  as  you  would  to  the 
breaking  of  the  Ten  Commandments,  while  for  you, 
Mr.  Higher-critic,  there  will  be  good  and  sufficient 
punishment.  I  rather  would  take  my  chance  with  a 
thief  and  a  murderer  at  the  last  day  than  with  the  man 
or  the  woman  who  leads  other  men  and  women  astray 
from  the  path  of  righteousness  by  means  of  false  reli- 
gious lights. 

Take  the  advice  of  Heredity  Beans,  dear  reader, 
and  steer  clear  of  the  things  that  call  themselves  new 
religions,  or  new  faiths,  or  new  schools  of  religious 
thought.  Do  not,  if  you  value  your  life  or  your  soul, 
play  with  the  edged  tools  of  Christian  Science,  or 
Faith-cure,  or  Theosophy,  or  the  doctrine  that  permits 
a  man  to  outline  his  own  Decalogue.     The  cults  that 


The  House  That  Jack  Built        249 

masquerade  under  the  name  of  Christian  have  not 
Christ  and  the  Cross  at  their  head.  BeHeve  me,  the 
real  and  true  leader  of  such  faiths,  if  they  can  be  dig- 
nified by  such  a  grand  old  title,  is  Satan  himself.  It 
is  one  of  his  favorite  devices  for  the  ensnaring  of  the 
weak  and  the  thoughtless.  Once  in  his  power  in  this 
way  it  is  almost  impossible  to  be  saved. 

You  cannot  deify  mud  or  a  stone  and  square  your 
religious  account  with  God.  You  cannot  set  up  a 
woman  or  a  man,  as  some  of  the  latter-day  "faiths" 
do,  and  give  her  or  him  the  worship  that  is  due  to 
God,  and  then  expect  him  to  pardon  your  offence 
against  the  first  law  of  the  Decalogue.  You  cannot 
expect  to  heal  a  broken  leg  or  arm  through  prayer 
alone.  God  does  not  mean  to  have  things  done  that 
way  in  these  days.  Nor  can  you  expect  in  such  a  way 
to  raise  up  your  child  from  the  bed  whereon  it  is  sick 
with  diphtheria  or  some  other  malignant  disease.  God 
doesn't  do  things  in  that  way,  either,  and  you  sin 
against  him  when  you  expect  it.  Go  back  to  the  faith 
of  your  fathers.  They  lived,  prospered,  and  went  to 
heaven  by  it;  and  what  was  good  enough  for  them 
certainly  is  good  enough  for  you.  If  there  is  deadly 
illness  in  your  house  and  you  are  inclined  to  the  Eddy 
madness  or  the  Faith-cure  foolishness  take  some  of 
Heredity  Beans'  good  gumption  and  get  down  on 
your  knees  for  the  purpose  of  seeking  God's  pardon 
for  your  error. 

Then  run  to  the  nearest  physician  and  ask  him  to 
break  his  record  getting  to  your  home. 


MY    FIRST    SERMON 


Chapter  XX. 


Having  been  ordained  at  last  to  the  work  of  the 
Gospel  ministry,  I  accepted  an  invitation  to  preach  at 
Tadpole  Chapel,  Toadville,  in  the  absence  of  the  pas- 
tor, though  I  had  never  preached  a  sermon  in  my  life. 
Now  Toadville  was  a  remarkable  village — remarkably 
so.  Its  population  was,  by  actual  count,  three  hun- 
dred and  twenty-seven — the  inhabitants  said  three 
hundred  and  twenty-eight.  Putting  the  village  docr 
tor  at  his  own  numerical  value  the  latter  estimate  may 
have  been  correct.  Its  public  buildings  were  the 
Phoenix  grogshop,  the  Cosmopolitan  Hotel,  three 
stores,  running  from  a  twenty-five-cent  to  a  three- 
hundred-dollar  stock;  a  single-barrel  drug-store,  and 
Tadpole  Chapel.  I  name  the  buildings  in  the  order 
of  importance  attached  to  them  by  the  Toadvillians. 
The  transforming  paint-brush  never  had  migrated  to 
Toadville,  and  the  voice  of  the  eloquent  lawn-mower 
never  had  been  heard  in  the  land.  The  lightningrod 
man  had  found  it,  sold  one  rod,  departed,  and  never 
returned.  But  it  is  of  the  Toadville  inhabitants 
chiefly  that  I  wish  to  speak — the  members  of  Tadpole 
Chapel — and,  of  course,  I  must  respect  seniority  and 
begin  with  the  oldest  inhabitant. 

The  original  settler  of  Toadville  was  Crybaby 
(250) 


My  First  Sermon  251 

Stove,  whose  high  prerogative  was  to  roast  ahve  all 
that  differed  with  him,  to  keep  his  pastor  in  a  stew, 
and  the  whole  church  in  a  broil.  Stove  was  deaf  in 
one  ear  and  always  kept  a  wad  of  cotton  in  the  other. 
You  had  to  put  both  feet  on  the  pedestals,  operate  the 
knee-swell,  pull  out  all  the  stops,  and  with  your  vox 
humana  raised  to  the  highest  pitch,  shout,  "Brother 
Stove!"  This  was  simply  a  trick  on  the  part  of  Cry- 
baby to  hear  little  and  talk  much.  Nobody  knew  his 
age,  and  nobody  in  the  same  enclosure  with  him  ever 
had  the  courage  to  ask  it.  Tradition  placed  it  at 
ninety-seven  years,  but  his  vigor  was  so  remarkably 
preserved,  that  a  stranger  would  have  reckoned  him 
under  rather  than  over  sixty-five.. 

Crybaby  was  the  oddest  of  mortals.  He  never  was 
known  to  smile  except  when  a  pastor  offered  his  res- 
ignation. He  actually  had  "run  off"  so  many  minis- 
ters from  Tadpole  Chapel  that  no  preacher  of  ordinary 
courage  wished  to  encounter  him.  The  trouble  with 
Stove  was  that  he  wanted  to  preach  himself,  being 
profoundly  impressed  with  a  call  to  the  ministry,  but 
as  no  one  save  Stove  was  thus  impressed,  no  field 
opened  to  the  aspiring  theologue.  He  wrote  all  the 
obituaries  for  the  community,  and  when  rehearsing 
them  on  public  occasions,  did  all  the  crying.  He  was 
never  known  to  weep  except  before  a  crowd,  and  then 
he  never  failed.  His  reputation  had  reached  me,  and 
I  am  free  to  say  it  filled  me  with  apprehension  as  I 
accepted  the  invitation  to  preach  my  maiden  sermon 
at  his  church. 

The  reader  will  next  make  his  bow  to  the  village 
doctor.      Dr.    Joab   Fyddlestycks   was    six   feet   tall. 


252  Good  Gumption 

scarcely  distinguishable  from  a  lightningrod  of  the 
same  length,  and  he  was  remarkably  fluent.  I  never 
saw  him  but  that  he  declared  he  had  just  spent  his 
last  dime,  though  a  small  fortune  was  owing  him. 
He  never  was  asked  for  a  contribution  to  any  benevo- 
lent objects  but  that  he  had  not  given  "largely"  to  a 
late  appeal,  though  he  never  remembered  the  name  of 
the  man  who  made  the  appeal.  He  invariably  had  a 
call  at  the  time  of  religious  service,  except  occasion- 
ally on  conference  days,  when  he  came  after  the  ser- 
mon to  answer  to  his  name,  to  avoid  a  charge  for  non- 
attendance.  On  such  occasions  he  made  almost  all  of 
the  motions,  and  did  all  of  the  talking.  He  nomi- 
nated all  the  committees,  and  drew  up  all  the  resolu- 
tions. He  always  subscribed  liberally  to  the  pastor's 
salary — but  he  never  paid.  Whenever  approached  by 
the  treasurer  on  the  subject,  he  was  "just  waiting  for 
a  responsible  patient  to  settle  a  large  bill  next  Satur- 
day." AMiy  Dr.  Fyddlestycks  should  be  pressed  finan- 
cially was  a  mystery  to  me,  as  his  medicines  cost  a 
mere  trifle  and  his  family  was  small.  His  quinine 
pills  seemed  made  out  of  mud  coated  with  flour,  while 
his  paregoric,  his  unfailing  panacea,  was  diluted  with 
colored  water,  which  he  termed  a  "mild  alterative." 

No  man  ever  had  heard  anything  which  the  Doctor 
had  not  heard  so  long  ago  that  he  had  forgotten  it. 
He  was  intimately  acquainted  with  all  the  noted  per- 
sonages of  the  day,  some  one  of  whom  was  always  on 
the  eve  of  visiting  him,  but  was  prevented  by  some 
unforeseen  occurrence. 

The  Doctor's  "ofiice"  was  a  comfortable  oak  chair 
at  the  door  of  the  Phoenix  bar-room.     Whenever  he 


My   First  Sermon  253 

pulled  a  tooth,  he  would  step  inside  and  take  a  drink. 
A  crowd  of  village  loafers  habitually  resorted  to  his 
"office"  of  an  evening  to  hear  his  marvelous  stories. 
Fyddlestycks  could  make  a  lie  appear  impressive,  and 
never  suffered  anybody  to  tell  a  tale  that  he  could  not 
beat.  On  one  occasion  a  city  drummer  happened  at 
the  ''office,"  and  felt  it  incumbent  on  him  to  enlighten 
the  natives  of  Toadville  on  the  subject  of  snakes.  I 
must  relate  what  happened  to  him. 

"Down  East,  where  I  came  from,"  said  the  drum- 
mer, conscious  of  superior  knowledge,  "our  people  are 
beginning  to  use  snakes  for  telegraph  wires,  there  be- 
ing one  now  in  active  operation  between  Boston  and 
Bunker  Hill." 

Every  eye  turned  to  the  Doctor  for  relief.  Fyddle- 
stycks paused  a  moment  as  if  to  collect  his  scattered 
forces  and  then  advanced  to  the  attack. 

"It  is  altogether  probable,  sir,"  said  he.  "Some 
years  ago  I  discovered  and  reported  to  the  profession 
that  there  is  a  sufficient  amount  of  electricity  in  cer- 
tain kinds  of  serpents — which,  in  reality,  sir,  are  nat- 
ural batteries — to  send  telegraphic  communications, 
the  length  of  the  serpent  being  the  only  desideratum. 
I  noticed,  however,  in  yesterday's  paper  that  the  head 
of  a  serpent,  known  to  science  as  the  serpens  ingens, 
had  been  brought  from  England  to  New  York,  the 
body  crossing  the  Atlantic,  leaving  several  miles  of 
tail  coiled  up  on  the  docks  at  Liverpool.  The  old  cable 
has  suspended  operations,  while  the  new  line  is  work- 
ing night  and  day." 

The  gentleman  from  the  East  took  the  next  train 
out  of  the  county.     But  I  couldn't  take  it,  for  I  had 


254  Good  Gumption 

an  engagement  to  preach  before  the  learned  Doctor, 
and  found  myseh'  under  the  necessity  of  facing  the 
ordeal.  The  majority  of  the  members  of  Tadpole 
Chapel  were  as  pious  a  folk  as  the  sun  shines  upon, 
and  only  the  assurance  that  I  should  have  their  sym- 
pathy made  it  possible  for  me  to  face  the  people  among 
whom  I  was  reared. 

I  never  had  imagined  that  there  could  be  any  very 
decided  difficulty  in  discoursing  on  some  simple  text  for 
the  space  of  thirty  or  forty  minutes.  I  had  six  weeks 
in  which  to  prepare,  and,  of  course,  began  by  attempt- 
ing to  select  an  appropriate  text.  I  opened  my  Bible 
at  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis,  and  read  the  account 
of  the  creation.  This  subject  struck  me  forcibly,  seem- 
ing to  afford  a  wide  range  for  speculation,  exegesis, 
and  application.  A  short  investigation,  however,  con- 
vinced me  that  JNIoses  had  pretty  well  compassed  the 
subject,  and  that,  for  several  years  at  least,  I  could 
not  hope  to  surpass  the  great  Hebrew,  in  his  chosen 
field.  I  laid  the  fascinatins:  theme  aside  for  future  and 
indefinite  consideration.  So  I  passed  on  to  the  fall  of 
man  and  the  loss  of  Eden.  That  seemed  to  suit  exact- 
ly ;  what  a  range  for  first-class  oratory !  Man,  crushed 
under  the  blow  of  divine  wrath — lightnings  burning 
on  the  bosom  of  the  angry  clouds — hoarse  thunders 
uttering  their  fierce  anathemas — humanity  fieeing 
from  Paradise,  whose  gate  is  guarded  by  cherubic 
hosts  and  a  flaming  sword !  I  worked  on  this  majestic 
theme  ten  days  and  nights,  when  I  came  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  I  couldn't  beat  "Paradise  Lost."  I  reluc- 
tantly laid  it  aside  for  future  reference. 

Next  came  the  Flood,   which,   at  first   inspection, 


My  First  Sermon  255 

seemed  scarcely  grand  enough  for  a  maiden  sermon. 
Still,  it  widened  a  little  under  my  mental  magnifying 
lens,  assuming  at  length  quite  respectable  proportions. 
I  pictured  in  my  mind  the  thundering  waves  beating 
down  smiling  villages;  I  described  lovers  sitting  on 
the  veranda  in  the  moonlight,  bending  over  their 
cologne  bottles,  while  anxious  youths  waited  for  a  re- 
ply  to  a  proposition  of  marriage.  In  cases  of  favora- 
ble response  a  huge  wave  broke  ofif  the  engagement. 
Others  were  marrying  and  given  in  marriage ;  the  hap- 
py groom  was  repeating  after  the  minister,  "with  this 
ring  I  thee  wed,  and  with  all  my  worldly  goods  I  thee 
endow,"  when  his  worldly  goods  suddenly  became  wa- 
tered stock. 

I  drew  mentally  touching  scenes  of  frightened  girls 
'phoning  to  Noah  to  ascertain  what  hour  the  ark  would 
sail,  mothers-in-law  sitting  on  gentle  knolls,  holding 
in  one  hand  a  silk  umbrella,  while  in  the  other  a  foun- 
tain-pen to  record  their  last  tender  advice  to  their 
newly-acq;iired  sons.  I  knew  that  would  bring  the 
tears  from  Crybaby.  I  thought  of  the  confusion  grow- 
ing out  of  the  breaking  up  of  all  the  ordinary  means  of 
communication — telegraph  wires  down,  post  offices 
closed,  cars  and  trains  stopped,  and  even  the  express 
facilities  suspended,  while  the  bicycles  ceased  their 
functions,  and  the  wagons  and  carriages,  with  a  few 
exceptions,  w^re  standing  in  the  highways  with  the 
water  rising  above  their  axles,  and  poodles  with  red 
ribbons  on  their  necks  lookinsf  out  of  the  windows  of 
the  latter  vehicles. 

The  daily  papers,  I  foresaw,  would  advertise  rub- 
ber goods  at  exorbitant  prices,  at  the  same  time  mark- 


256  Good  Gumption 

ing  a  decline  in  the  quotations  of  cigarettes  and  cigars ; 
for  in  a  crisis  men  do  not  want  to  put  their  money  in 
things  that  end  in  smoke.  Opera  glasses  were  firm; 
but  chewing-gum  and  popcorn  were  lower.  The  fore- 
cast said,  "Continued  rain."  I  determined  to  portray 
the  rising  waters,  floating  houses,  pianos,  sewing- 
machines,  flood,  and  darkness — all  the  electric  lights 
out — storms  and  waterspouts,  the  maddened  ocean 
sweeping  the  wicked  away  and  roaring  in  tremendous 
majesty  over  hills  and  fnountains. 

In  my  fervid  imagination,  I  got  aboard  the  Ark, 
riding  triumphantly  on  the  high  seas,  rejoicing  in  the 
salvation  of  Jehovah.  But  here  my  theme  gave  out, 
and,  landing  on  Mount  Ararat,  I  abandoned  the  Ark 
and  came  down,  my  fancies  subsiding  much  faster 
than  the  waters. 

After  this  I  turned  my  attention  to  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments, but  found  them  already  sufficiently  de- 
veloped— and  besides  I  hadn't  kept  enough  of  them. 

The  next  field  that  appeared  to  open  bright  with 
promise  was  that  of  prophecy,  offering  most  magnifi- 
cent opportunities  for  lofty  flights  of  eloquence  and  for 
profound  insight  into  hidden  mysteries.  So  I  deter- 
mined to  unravel  Ezekiel's  vision — but  it  didn't  un- 
ravel. 

Four  of  the  six  weeks  having  elapsed,  I  arrived  at 
the  conviction  that  there  was  no  suitable  text  for  me 
in  the  Old  Testament,  and  so  passed  over  into  the 
New.  Here  I  found  several  inviting  passages.  I 
tried  the  general  Judgment,  finding  there,  too,  that  the 
supply  was  not  equal  to  the  demand.  I  then  tried  to 
ride  the  pale  horse  of  Revelation,  but  he  threw  me. 


My  First  Sermon  257 

The  six  weeks  now  had  drawn  to  a  close.  It  was 
late  Saturday  evening,  and  I  was  still  without  a  text. 
After  tea,  I  lighted  my  lamp,  searching  until  nine 
o'clock  for  an  appropriate  theme  for  next  morning. 
At  last  my  happy  eye  fell  on  the  words  of  Matthew 
xii.  12:  "How  much  then  is  a  man  better  than  a 
sheep?"  It  is  noticeable  that  the  tyro  in  preaching  is 
almost  sure  to  select  the  loftiest  or  else  the  quaintest 
texts  in  Scripture,  deeming  himself  quite  competent  to 
manage  matters  that  the  masters  in  theology  touch 
with  fear  and  trembling.  The  fledgeling  preacher  ac- 
tually steps  in  where  bishops  fear  to  tread.  Under  in- 
tense application,  I  discovered,  to  my  unspeakable  sat- 
isfaction, that  my  lamb  developed  finely,  his  horns  as- 
suming proper  dimensions,  his  fleece  broadening  and 
whitening,  his  tail  following  the  law  of  perpendicu- 
lars, until  I  had  for  my  Sunday  discourse  not  a  skele- 
ton, but  a  full-grown  sheep.  A  case  of  genuine  Dar- 
winity,  one  might  say,  and  one  showing  the  remarka- 
ble efifect  of  evolution. 

An  enormous  congregation  greeted  my  appearance 
at  Toadville,  the  home  of  my  forefathers  and  the  scene 
of  a  large  portion  of  my  youth.  This  circumstance 
accounted  for  the  unusual  gathering.  The  center  of 
converging  eyes,  I  entered  the  pulpit  heavy-laden  with 
my  sheep.  The  companions  of  my  youth,  no  doubt  re- 
calling many  an  adventure  of  the  past,  stared  at  me, 
while  older  heads  (the  little  episode  with  the  hornets 
and  the  late  seance  being  still  green  spots  in  their 
minds)  shook  their  heads  in  doubt  as  to  the  propriety 
of  my  standing  behind  the  sacred  desk.     My  father 

was  outside,  saying  in  whispered  tones  of  unmistaka- 
17 


258  Good  Gumption 

ble  ecstasy,  "That's  my  boy,  gentlemen.  Open  both 
ears  to-day.  It's  in  him ;  I  tell  you,  it's  in  him.  He's 
a  chip  off  the  old  block,  my  boy  is."  As  Polytechnic 
passed  in,  he  gave  her  a  sly  pinch,  whispering  softly, 
''Don't  cast  love-glances  at  my  boy  until  he  gets 
through  preaching."  Answering  with  a  blush,  she  was 
soon  lost  in  the  multitude. 

The  congregation,  curious  to  behold  the  "new 
preacher,"  had  promptly  assembled,  and  as  promptly 
turned  their  heads  to  gaze  at  me  as  I  walked  up  the 
aisle,  which  had  been  taken  up  with  pallets,  by  fond 
mothers,  for  their  children  to  frolic  or  sleep  on  during 
service,  as  seemed  to  them  good.  I  managed  to  wade 
through  the  little  fellows  without  doing  any  serious 
damage,  only  here  and  there  knocking  over  a  couple 
of  youngsters  that  tried  to  climb  my  legs,  while  before 
I  opened  the  service  I  had  to  do  considerable  hand- 
shaking, my  father  pointing  proudly  to  me. 

Commencing  my  sermon  with  a  most  startling  flight 
of  eloquence,  I  soared  from  the  vine-clad  hills  of  earth 
to  the  amaranthine  bowers  of  Paradise,  taking  in  the 
stars  as  I  prosecuted  my  voyage.  Paradise  being  some 
distance  from  this  mundane  sphere,  my  rhetorical 
wings  grew  too  weak  to  sustain  so  long  a  strain,  and 
dropped  me  somewhat  unceremoniously  in  Toadville, 
to  escape  as  best  I  could  from  the  two  horns,  not  of  a 
dilemma,  but  of  my  sheep.  Polytechnic's  eyes  were 
turned  upon  the  floor,  her  cheeks  suffused  with  crim- 
son, while  my  father  twisted  restlessly  in  his  seat. 

Fortunately,  before  a  miscellaneous  audience,  there 
are  always  two  resources  in  case  of  a  sermonic  failure ; 
namely,  obstreperous  bawling  or  the  recital  of  a  death 


o 


< 
Q 

O 

<  ^  . 

X  S 

cu   '-' 
O 


o 

>^' 
o 

09 


>- 
S 


< 


(259) 


260  Good  Gumption 

scene.  Nothing  was  now  left  me  but  to  employ  both 
of  these  life-preservers,  and  strike  manfully  for  the 
shore.  Having  shouted  "Glory!"  and  a  few  kindred 
words  at  the  top  of  my  voice  several  minutes,  thus 
raising  my  hearers  to  a  suitable  emotional  frame,  I  de- 
scribed a  dead  pig  I  had  seen  in  the  road  some  weeks 
before,  with  telling  effect.  It  was  a  poor  little  pig,  I 
stated,  whose  father  had  perhaps  been  slaughtered  by 
the  ruthless  hand  of  the  butcher,  whose  parental  care 
was  forever  denied  the  pitiful  and  helpless  offspring. 
Its  little  feet  were  still  in  death,  its  little  eyes  were 
glazed  in  forgetfulness.  The  mother  had  returned  to 
her  wallowing  in  the  mire,  there  to  sorrow  alone  for 
the  little  one  that  lay  by  the  roadside  dead. 

Seeing  I  had  reached  a  ripe  climax,  I  concluded. 
Crybaby  wept  profusely.  Owing  to  a  peculiar  bent  in 
his  constitution,  he  could  not  be  happy  without  a 
death  scene  or  a  funeral — though  a  pig  would  do  for 
a  subject. 

"Magnificent!  doubly  magnificent!"  exclaimed  he; 
"I'll  never  forget  that  pig  scene,  and  it  will  do  me  good 
for  months  to  come.  Punctuate  your  sermons  with 
funerals,  my  boy;  that's  the  thing  that  tells  every 
time." 

Even  Dr.  Fyddlestycks  came  up  to  congratulate  me. 

"I  tell  you,  sir,"  said  he,  enthusiastically,  "that  pig 
incident  was  a  masterpiece.  It  reminds  me  of  the  oc- 
casion on  which  I  addressed,  by  earnest  invitation,  the 
court  of  Queen  Victoria,  and  related  the  original  story 
of  the  lost  kid.  The  effect,  sir,  was  so  prodigious  that 
I  was  invited  to  repeat  it  at  every  court  in  Europe." 

And  there  were  other  results  from  my  sermon.  Mrs. 


My  First  Sermon  261 

Campbell  was  seized  with  a  pair  of  the  jimjams,  and 
Polytechnic  was  gasping  with  a  case  of  the  highjinks. 
My  father  leaped  from  his  seat  crying:  "That's  my. 
boy,  every  inch  of  him.  I  knew  it  was  in  him.  Chip 
off  the  old  block,  my  boy  is."  Tearful  sisters  passed 
me  saying,  "Splendid!"  Alany  said  it  was  the  best 
sermon  they  ever  heard.  I  drank  all  these  compli- 
ments in  with  great  dignity,  and  looked  with  benignity 
upon  my  fellow  Toadvillians. 

And  I  returned  home  fully  satisfied  that  within  less 
than  six  weeks  I  should  walk  as  pastor  into  the  grand- 
est church  on  the  Western  Continent,  with  a  salary  of 
$5,000  the  first  year.  At  odd  times  I  found  myself 
drawing  a  picture  of  the  church  of  which  I  was  to  be 
pastor,  its  cloud-reaching  steeple,  its  surging  congre- 
gations, and  its  palatial  parsonage  hard  by.  Week 
after  week,  however,  passed,  as  I  sat  each  evening  on 
the  fence,  waiting  for  the  mail  to  bring  me  a  call ;  but 
no  call  came.  I  saw  in  the  "Ecclesiastical  Conglomer- 
ator,"  a  denominational  weekly,  that  a  number  of  fine 
churches  were  pastorless,  yet,  strange  to  say,  it  never 
occurred  to  them  to  communicate  with  me.  Surely  I 
was  known  everywhere  by  this  time,  and  I  have  always 
thought  that  was  the  reason  I  didn't  get  the  call. 


MISS  SO  OK  SIIO£STJ^INGS 


Chapter  XXI. 


About  a  year  after  my  ordination  I  became  pastor 
of  the  Eden  Church  at  Doodle  Town,  suffocating  upon 
an  annual  salary  of  three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars. 
It  came  about  this  way: 

On  returning  one  evening  from  a  most  charming 
visit  to  Polytechnic,  I  found  a  letter  awaiting  me,  ad- 
dressed to  the  Reverend  Heredity  Beans.  I  had  never 
seen  the  title  of  Reverend  written  in  connection  with 
my  name  before,  and,  as  I  gazed  upon  it,  the  curious 
writing,  and  the  odd  envelope,  I  felt  my  cheeks  redden. 
I  am  now  recognized  by  the  w^orld,  thought  I,  as  a 
true  son  of  Levi,  a  respected  member  of  the  cloth,  and 
a  veritable  successor  of  the  Apostles,  if  not  indeed  an 
incipient  Apostle  himself.  With  beating  heart  I  with- 
drew from  the  family  group  to  my  own  apartment, 
that  with  no  eye  to  see,  no  ear  to  hear,  and  no  tongue 
to  tell,  I  might  examine  the  mystic  epistle.  Thus  it 
read. 

Dear  Brother  Beans:  In  regfular  conference,  on 
December  5th,  Eden  church,  at  Doodle  Town,  elected 
you  unanimously  its  pastor,  at  an  annual  salary  of 
$350.  This  is  an  interesting  field,  in  serious  need  of 
a  faithful  undershepherd  who  is  willing  to  make 
sacrifices   for  the  good  of  the  cause.     The  church 

(262) 


Miss  Sook  Shoestrings  263 

will  expect  you  to  be  punctual  in  all  appointments, 
to  conduct  all  prayer-meetings,  lead  the  singing,  hold 
family  prayer  wherever  you  lodge,  warn  the  wicked, 
strengthen  the  feeble,  visit  the  flock,  settle  all  dis- 
putes, build  a  new  church,  conciliate  the  women, 
and  adjust  politics.  And  I  might  add  that  you 
would  also  be  expected  to  settle  all  fusses  growing 
out  of  love  affairs  and  dog-fights. 

Fraternally  yours,  Twang  Noodle,  C.  C. 

To  which  I  rephed: 

My  darling  Tzvang:  Your  exhilarating  favor  nas 
reached  me,  awakening  music  from  chords  that  had 
not  been  touched  for  many  a  moon.  Indeed  I  have 
not  felt  so  great  ecstasy  since  a  certain  Fourth  of 
July  barbecue  of  my  youth.  I  have  for  some  time 
thought  I  would  like  to  be  a  missionary  to  the  hea- 
then, and  I  rejoice  that  the  opportunity  is  now  offered. 
Please  say  to  the  saints  at  Doodle  Town,  on  my  be- 
half, that  I  accept  their  call;  and  in  addition  to  the 
duties  enumerated,  I  shall  be  glad  to  sweep  the 
church,  cut  the  wood,  make  the  fires,  and  ring  the 
bell.     I  shall  fill  the  pulpit  next  Sunday. 

With  a  cataract  of  love,  I  am  yours,      H.  Beans. 

I  mounted  my  mule,  and  after  a  wearisome  journey, 
through  desolate  pine  woods,  toward  nightfall  reined 
up  at  the  plain  but  comfortable  residence  of  'Squire 
Shoestrings.  The  'Squire  kept  a  crossroads  store,  and 
had  not  yet  come  in  for  the  evening  meal.  His  wife, 
however,  met  me  with  some  degree  of  surprise,  but  on 
learning  my  name,  received  me  with  cordiality,  invit- 
ing me  at  once  to  a  blazing  hickory  fire  in  her  best 
room.  I  was,  I  am  free  to  say,  not  a  little  glad  the 
'Squire  was  out,  for  it  has  always  been  easier  for  me 
to  get  acquainted  with  a  woman  than  a  man. 


264  Good  Gumption 

"You  have  a  flourishing  church  in  the  neighbor- 
hood?" ventured  I,  in  measured  accents. 

"Good  es  enny,"  repHed  my  amiable  hostess. 

"And  no  doubt  by  proper  effort  it  may  be  still  fur- 
ther developed,"  suggested  I. 

"Enwalloped?"  exclaimed  the  Squire's  wife,  getting 
a  trifle  excited.  "Them  church  air  been  standin'  these 
forty  year,  an'  ain't  been  enwalloped  yit.  Is  that  yer 
arrant  here — to  enwalloped  them  church?  Kase  if  it 
air,  ye's  got  business  onto  yer  hands,  ye  has." 

"Oh !  madam,  you  did  not  catch  the  force  of  my  re- 
mark," said  I  in  confusion.  "I  simply  meant  that  with 
proper  efforts  the  operations  of  the  church  might  be 
enlarged ;  and — " 

"Opuration  or  no  opuration,"  interrupted  my  host- 
ess, "them  church  air  large  ernough.  It  air  forty 
foot  by  sixty,  and  everybody  of  common  onderstandin' 
knows  that's  large  ernough  fur  this  'ere  neighborhood. 
Mought  be  the  folks  is  larger  whar  you  come  from, 
but  we  is  small  pertaters  'bout  these  p'ints,  and  kin 
squeeze  ourselves  into  small  quarters." 

I  was  inexperienced  and  timid.  Had  I  possessed 
the  miraculous  gift,  I  would  gladly  with  becoming  ve- 
locity have  crawled  into  a  dirt-dauber's  nest  to  spend 
the  night,  but  it  was  a  crisis  in  my  ministerial  life,  and 
I  resolved  to  steer  my  way  over  the  breakers  at  all 
hazards.  I  now  began  to  discover  something  of  the 
general  spirit  and  intelligence  of  my  community. 

"Who  was  your  last  pastor?"  resumed  I,  mildly. 

"Wall,  lem  me  see  on  it.  It  was  ole  Brother  Do- 
nothing.  An'  fur  erwhile  he  was  moughty  pop'lar — 
everybody  'peared  to  like  him  pcw'ful  tell  he  beginned 


Miss  Sook  Shoestrings  265 

to  talk  erbout  money,  an'  folks  los'  confidence  in  him 
prisonous  rapid.  It  won't  begin  to  do,  chile,  fur  a 
sarvant  of  the  Lord  to  talk  erbout  sich  things." 

"No,  indeed.    So  let's  talk  about  finances." 

"Poor  Frances!  she's  dead  and  gone  this  two  year 
next  March." 

"By  the  way,  did  the  church  pay  the  salary  of  its 
late  pastor  promptly?" 

"Wall,  sometimes  it  did,  an'  sometimes  it  didn't; 
most  in  gen'ally,  p'rhaps,  it  didn't.  But  the  bretherins 
allers  gin  him  more'n  half  on  it,  an'  that's  er  plenty 
fur  enny  heavenly-minded  soul.  Yer  know  er  preach- 
er of  the  gawspill  hadn't  oughter  hanker  atter  arthly 
things." 

"What  was  the  amount  of  his  salary?"  continued  I. 

"I  think  how  I  hear  'em  say  [casting  her  eyes  to 
heaven  as  if  to  recall  the  vast  sum]  it  were  three  hun- 
dred an'  fifty  dollar;  a  precious  bit,  accordin'  to  my 
way  o'  thinkin',  fur  er  hour's  preachin'  twict  er  Sun- 
day. I  know  I'd  feel  es  proud  es  er  hornit  ef  I  could 
squeeze  that  money  jes  fur  talkin'  er  hour  or  sich  er 
matter.    Talk's  cheap,  chile !" 

"Yes,  madam,"  indignantly  rejoined  I.  "Some  talk 
would  be  dear  at  any  price,  while  other  talk  is  not  es- 
teemed because  it  is  beyond  the  range  of  fools." 

The  old  woman  was  cute  enough  to  see  just  what 
I  meant  and  her  wrath  was  kindled  to  such  a  pitch 
that  her  eyes  became  menacing  craters,  through  which 
poured  the  fires  generated  by  the  active  forces  of  the 
volcano  within.  I  have  never  spoken  it  abroad,  but  I 
confess  it  here,  I  was  seriously  alarmed.  As  she 
viewed  the  poker,  I  contemplated  the  window.     In 


266  *       Good  Gumption 

fact,  things  were  getting  dreadfully  mixed,  when  a 
footstep  in  the  passage  announced  the  arrival  of 
'Squire  Shoestrings,  whose  presence  interrupted  a  con- 
versation that  was  not  altogether  unto  edification,  and 
possibly  averted  a  catastrophe  that  would  by  no  means 
have  been  comforting  to  my  shrinking  nature.  The 
'Squire  received  me  kindly,  expressing  the  hope  that  I 
would  like  the  village  and  the  church,  though  for  him- 
self he  had  never  joined  it.  As  for  the  salary,  he  said 
he  knew  it  was  small,  but  he  thought  I  might  manage 
"to  make  out." 

"Yes,"  said  I,  "I  can  get  along,  but  the  salary  is 
hardly  enough  to  buy  toothpicks." 

"Spiders  an'  gingercakes !"  gasped  the  excited  ma- 
tron in  bewilderment.  "I  sees  es  plain  es  the  nose  onto 
a  man's  face,  ef  you  come  here,  yer's  gwine  ter  com- 
mote this  community.  An'  mark  my  talk  pertic'lar, 
ef  you  teches  them  church,  it  air  enwalloped  beyant 
all  rekivery." 

To  the  evident  relief  of  all  parties,  supper  was  an- 
nounced and  an  excellent- meal  was  served.  My  appe- 
tite, somewhat  impaired  by  previous  exhaustion  and 
embarrassment,  was  readily  satisfied  with  two  fried 
chickens,  a  quart  of  cold  collards,  seven  cups  of  cof- 
fee, several  glasses  of  milk,  a  lot  of  tea-cakes,  and  a 
few  other  small  delicacies,  whose  names  I  cannot  all 
recall  just  now,  but  which  included  pies,  sweetmeats, 
and  nuts.  When  Mrs.  Shoestring  discovered  my  de- 
votion to  her  table  dainties,  she  began  to  soften  up 
most  wonderfully  toward  me.  Every  time  I  handed 
up  my  cup  to  be  refilled  with  cofifee,  or  helped  myself 
to  a  new  dish,  I  rose  ten  degrees  in  the  warmth  of  her 


Miss  Sook  Shoestrings  •         267 

affections,  for  she  prided  herself  on  her  cuHnary  at- 
tainments, and  together  with  her  family,  worshiped 
the  god  Pan.  The  'Squire's  evident  liking  for  mc, 
coupled  with  the  growing  intimacy  of  the  children, 
conduced  to  advance  me  in  the  esteem  of  my  hostess, 
who  graciously  swung  from  the  extreme  of  reserve 
to  that  of  open-heartedness. 

After  supper,  the  family,  consisting  of  parents,  five 
sons,  eight  daughters,  and  two  dogs,  met  in  Mrs. 
Shoestrings'  sitting  room  for  a  social  hour.  A  piece 
of  well-charred  lightwood  knot  made  a  noble  effort 
to  illuminate  the  apartment,  sending  out  now  and  then 
a  precious  little  ray  of  resplendence;  but  alas!  Sook, 
the  eldest  girl,  removing  her  black  gum  dipping-brush 
from  her  elaborate  mouth,  and  puckering  her  lips  ac- 
cording to  the  law  of  resultant  forces,  snuffed  (par- 
don the  pun,  but  the  snuff  actually  seemed  to  put  the 
fire  out)  the  heroic  but  feeble  blaze. 

"Thar  now!"  said  the  parents.  "Now,  Sis,  what 
did  you  do  that  fur?"  chimed  in  each  of  the  children. 
I  don't  think  the  pups  made  any  remark,  but  this  state- 
ment, however,  is  not  guaranteed,  since  the  din  of 
voices  was  so  great  as  to  render  the  canine  accent  not 
easily  distinguishable.  After  a  search  of  half  an  hour 
in  all  the  rooms,  loft,  and  kitchen,  for  a  match,  Stuffin 
Shoestrings  remembered  that  he  had  put  one  of  those 
household  necessities  in  his  Sunday  vest-pocket,  and 
soon  rekindled  the  invaluable  knot. 

"Now,  Sook,"  said  Mrs.  Shoestrings,  glancing  fur- 
tively at  me,  "I  specks  you  hain't  made  no  favorable 
impression  on  Brother  Beans  by  lettin'  him  diskiver 
that  snuff  bresh,  bein'  how  he  don't  smoke  hisself." 


268         •         Good  Gumption 

"Never  mind,  Brother  Beans,"  continued  the  moth- 
er, "Sook  is  a  smart  gal,  an'  kin  turn  a  broom  es  brisk 
es  a  whirlwin'.  All  the  young  men  in  the  neighbor- 
hood looks  on  Sook  es  bein'  a  mighty  chance.  But  I 
tells  Sook,  considerin'  her  blood  an'  property,  she's 
got  to  set  her  pegs  higher'n  anything  in  these  diggins. 
See,  Brother  Beans,"  lowering  her  tone  in  great  confi- 
dence, ''Sook's  pa  has  got  heaps  of  land,  an'  er  mill, 
an'  er  house  an'  lot  in  town ;  an'  I  ses  to  Sook,  ses  I, 
'Sook,  child,  you  can't  'ford  to  fling  yourself  away  on 
this  neighborhood  trash.'  " 

"You  are  entirely  right,  madam,"  said  I,  somewhat 
bewildered,  "to  wish  the  highest  privileges  and  advan- 
tages for  your  daughter,  and  I  trust  your  most  san- 
guine expectations,  so  far  as  they  are  for  Sook's  high- 
est good,  may  be  realized.  Your  first  care,  however, 
should  be  to  impress  her  with  the  solemnity  of  her 
duty  to  God,  and  the  beauty  of  holiness." 

"Which  I  does ;  an'  fur  that  reason  I  has  allers  told 
Sook  how  mighty  pleasin'  it  would  be  to  her  ole  maw 
ef  she  would  take  a  likin'  to  some  pious  man  what 
could  'spound  the  Scripturs  to  her — an  pertic'lar  ef 
it  wuz  er  preacher." 

"Now,  maw !  you  know  I  hain't  fit,"  said  Sook. 

"Hush!  Sook;  you  hain't  no  fool,  kase  you  know 
mighty  well  a  preacher  has  so  many  burdens  on  his 
mind  that  he  don't  want  no  mummy  'bout  him.  Not 
much ;  he  wants  a  wife  that  flies  'bout  like  er  hummin' 
bird,  full  of  fun,  lively  es  er  cricket,  with  plenty  of 
spirit.  Brother  Beans,  see  that  gal  lookin'  like  she 
wa'nt  thinkin'  'bout  nothin'  ?  She  ain't  no  idiot,  Broth- 
er Beans,  Sook  ain't." 


(269) 


270  Good  Gumption 

"You,  maw!  you  know  I  never  'tends  ter  marry. 
Hie,  hie,  hie." 

"W'y,  Sook!  It  wuz  but  yistiddy  you  'lowed  es 
how  Brother  Beans'  pictur  wuz  the  pretties'  thing 
you  ever  see,  an'  you  wisht  he  would  only  ax  you  to 
m— " 

"Stop!  maw,"  screamed  Miss  Shoestrings,  sliding 
rapidly  across  the  floor,  and  placing  her  expansive 
hand  over  her  mother's  mouth  and  giggling.  This 
touching  episode — it  was  really  very  touching — 
caused  everybody  in  the  room  to  roar  with  laughter, 
except  Shoestrings,  who  was  asleep,  and  myself,  who 
wanted  to  be  asleep — and  the  pups. 

By  this  time,  unfortunately,  the  younger  children 
had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  I  was  intended  for 
their  sport  as  well  as  for  that  of  others.  For  twenty 
minutes  they  had  been  gradually  getting  nearer  to 
me,  when  at  last  one  little  fellow  poked  the  broom- 
stick at  me  to  see  if  I  would  bite.  As  soon  as  it  was 
perceived  that  I  was  altogether  harmless,  he  ran  his 
hand  into  my  pocket  and  grabbed  my  knife.  Another 
plundered  my  remaining  pocket  and  took  out  my  purse, 
while  two  sprightly  girls  sat  on  my  knees,  and  a  prom- 
ising boy  climbed  upon  a  chair  and  then  arranged  him- 
self astraddle  of  my  neck. 

The  fond  mother  looked  on  admiringly,  occasion- 
ally remarking,  "Napoleon,  you's  a  rude  chile,  son. 
I  don't  speck  Brother  Beans  is  used  to  sich  rude  chil- 
dun."  Then  again,  when  I  had  been  nearly  devoured, 
the  placid  parent  would  say,  all  the  while  approving 
the  precocity  of  her  boy,  "John  Adams,  why  don't  you 
quit,  son  ?"    Matters  grew  worse  and  worse,  the  chil- 


Miss  Sook  Shoestrings  271 

dren  climbing  up  on  me  and  pillaging  me  with  greater 
and  greater  barbarity,  until,  in  the  effort  to  disentan- 
gle myself,  I  trod  on  the  tail  of  one  of  the  dogs  that 
had  been  eying  me  suspiciously  for  some  time,  arous- 
ing his  canine  wrath.  The  insulted  pup,  attempting 
to  wreak  vengeance  on  me,  in  the  confusion  of  legs 
inflicted  a  wound  on  Stuffin's  thigh,  which  caused  the 
entertainment  to  conclude  with  a  bawl. 

John  Adams  was  now  ready  to  take  me  to  my  room, 
and  I  bade  the  family  a  hearty  adieu.  Sook  followed 
me  into  the  passage,  asking  if  I  would  accept  a  gera- 
nium leaf.  I  took  it,  and  tried  to  smile.  Thus  en- 
couraged, the  mammoth  maid  became  emboldened  to 
further  wooing, 

"Mr.  Beans,"  said  she,  "would  you  feel  insulted  if 
I  offered  you  a  pair  of  socks  I  knit  for  you  since  I 
heard  you  wuz  coming  to  Doodle  Town  ?" 

"Why,  no,  Sook;  I  have  on  several  occasions  re- 
ceived socks  from  members  of  my  congregation,  and 
have  always  appreciated  them." 

She  handed  me  the  footwear  smiling  a  good-night, 
and  hoping  I  would  have  pleasant  dreams. 

Wearied  and  worn,  I  followed  John  Adams  Shoe- 
strings to  my  room,  climbing  a  ladder  to  get  there. 
It  was  a  loft,  called  by  the  family  the  "company's 
room."  In  one  end  were  stored  away  cotton  seed  and 
fodder ;  in  the  other  stood  a  rickety  bed,  on  which  slept 
a  dog.  John  Adams  left  me  alone,  requesting  me  to 
"let  'em  know  if  you  want  anything."  To  which  I  re- 
plied that  I  never  expected  to  want  anything  again  as 
long  as  I  lived. 

My  first  preparation  for  the  night's  rest  was  to 


272  Good  Gumption 

make  friends  with  my  new  roommate,  who  seemed  a 
Httle  suspicious  of  my  movements.  I  unraveled  one 
of  the  socks  Sook  had  just  given  me,  and  having 
gathered  up  the  four  corners  of  the  spread,  which  I 
securely  fastened  with  the  thread,  I  let  my  canine  ac- 
quaintance down  through  the  window.  Then  I  went 
to  bed  wondering  whether  most  preachers  had  so  hard 
a  lot,  whether  they  met  with  families  like  the  Shoe- 
strings, with  characters  like  Sook,  and  whether  they 
had  to  sleep  in  a  loft,  and  have  a  fight  with  a  dog  to 
get  possession  of  the  bed. 

And  then,  after  I  had  gotten  possession  of  the  bed, 
the  brute  that  I  had  ejected  set  up  a  most  doleful  howl- 
ing underneath  my  window.  He  doubtless  was  expa- 
tiating to  his  fellow-canines  of  the  neighborhood  re- 
garding the  inhuman  monster  that  had  sent  him  adrift 
into  the  night  to  find  a  bed  as  best  he  could.  In  dog 
language  the  things  he  said  about  me  for  the  space  of 
an  hour  were  simply  tremendous  in  their  eloquence 
and  force.  Sleep  was  out  of  the  question  until  I  had 
silenced  him.  So  I  hunted  about  for  a  weapon.  Noth- 
ing suggested  itself  save  a  huge  iron  frying-pan  I 
found  stowed  away  in  the  corner  with  some  other  cast- 
ofifs  from  the  kitchen.  Taking  careful  aim  out  of  the 
window  with  this  I  hurled  it  at  him.  There  was  a  suc- 
cession of  short,  painful  yelps  and  then  silence.  I 
shook  hands  with  myself  and  again  went  to  bed. 

I  then  tried  to  sleep,  but  alas !  it  was  impossible.  I 
closed  not  my  eyes  the  whole  livelong  night.  The 
chinches  attacked  me  in  droves ;  they  fought  me ;  they 
ate  me,  they  nearly  killed  me ;  and  I  found  no  relief  un- 
til the  dawn  of  day.     As  I  came  down  to  breakfast, 


Miss  Sook  Shoestrings  273 

Sook,  appareled  in  her  best  garments,  brought  me  her 
album,  with  the  request  to  write  in  it  an  original  poem. 
My  muse  being  prolific,  I  indited  the  following  ode; 
and  but  for  the  unsentimental  breakfast  bell,  I  think  I 
would  have  filled  out  the  album : 

AD  SOOKIAM. 

O  maiden  fair,  thy  golden  hair, 
Thy  crimson  cheeks,  thy  ringlets  rare, 
Thy  laughing  eyes,  thy  apple  pies, 
Thy  heav'nly  name,  thy  bottled  dyes, 
Thy  hundred  charms,  thy  dimpled  arms. 
Thy  acres  broad,  thy  country  farms, 
Thy  slender  neck,  thy  father's  check. 
Thy  hand  of  snow,  that  holds  a  peck. 
Thy  glitt'ring  gold,  thy  wealth  untold, 

0  cherub  fair !     O  spirit  bold ! 
Can  ne'er  requite  the  hapless  fight 

1  waged  against  the  bugs  last  night. 
Now  maiden  fair,  thy  album  take. 

And  take  as  well  thy  trusty  broom ; 
And  from  the  cracks  the  chinches  rake, 
Before  thoud'st  wed  a  luckless  groom. 

At  family  prayer  Shoestrings  handed  me  a  Patent 
Office  Report  for  the  Bible.  I  read  two  paragraphs 
from  the  national  gospel :  one  on  "How  to  raise  hogs," 
and  the  other  on  "The  best  method  of  exterminating 
vermin,"  and  prayed  to  be  delivered  from  the  terror 
by  night,  and  from  the  pestilence  that  walketh  in 
darkness. 

I  understand  Mrs.  Shoestrings  is  wondering  why  I 
haven't  been  back.    I'm  not. 
18 


SENNACHERIB   TONGS   WEDS 


Chapter  XXII. 


One  dreamy  evening  in  April,  the  mail  brought  me 
a  letter,  which  explains  itself : 

MuDViLLE,  April  17. 
Rev.  H.  Beans. 

Dear  Sir:  The  object  of  this  letter  is  to  inform 
you  that  I  am  to  be  married  on  Wednesday  night, 
30th  inst.  The  honor  of  performing  the  ceremony 
is  conferred  on  yourself.  We  want  the  job  done  up 
in  the  best  style,  as  there  will  be  a  big  crowd  and 
an  abundance  of  intelligence  present — people  of  our 
stamp,  you  know,  do  things  on  a  grand  scale  and 
have  to  have  a  grand  show.  No  ordinary  affair 
would  accord  either  with  our  rank  or  family  record, 
for  we  are  descended  from  the  first  families  of  the 
State,  and  move  in  the  upper  stratum  of  Mudville. 

Now,  sir,  I  hope  you  will  allow  me  to  make  a  sug- 
gestion or  two  without  taking  offense.  Please  come 
in  most  fashionable  shape,  wearing  a  broadcloth  suit 
and  kid  gloves.  Most  of  the  gentlemen  will  have 
beavers.  On  arriving  at  Mudville,  put  up  at  the 
Spring  Chickens  House,  until  called  for.  Remem- 
ber, everything  must  be  first-class. 

Respectfully  yours,  Sennacherib  Tongs. 

It  was  now  that  hope  loomed  up  before  me,  that 
double  rainbows  bedecked  all  the  clouds  of  heaven, 
and  that  the  world  was  bright  with  the  implied  prom- 
(274) 


Sennacherib  Tongs  Weds  275 

ise  of  Sennacherib  Tongs.  Mr.  Tongs'  letter  was  the 
basis  of  my  hope.  Having  never  married  a  couple,  I 
had  no  experience  in  the  fee  business,  and  congratu- 
lated myself  on  having  a  case  of  rank  and  wealth  as  an 
initiation.  Of  course,  anyone,  not  hopelessly  besotted 
with  ignorance,  would  understand  at  a  glance  that 
Sennacherib  Tongs  was  a  gentleman  of  liberal  cul- 
ture, magnificent  affluence,  and  generous  bestowments. 
The  brilliancy  of  the  approaching  wedding  dazzled 
me.  Broadcloth  suits,  kid  gloves,  beavers !  I  saw,  in 
the  prospect,  maidens  clad  in  silk,  and  giddy  throngs 
reeling  in  luxury.  Tables  groaned  under  rare  and 
costly  viands.  I  saw  the  bride  robed  in  gold,  and  the 
bridegroom  staggering  under  jewels.  A  thousand 
bridesmaids  smiled  before  me  under  the  gilded  arches 
of  a  granite  mansion.  These  were  the  things  I  beheld 
in  my  vision.  And  these  were  the  things  for  which  I 
sought  to  part  with  my  money : 

Suit  of  broadcloth ^zy  oo 

Kid   gloves i  75 

Beaver,  two-storied 8  00 

Silk  cravat,  striped  and  spotted 75 

Patent  leather  shoes 4  50 

Silk    handkerchief 50 

Watch  chain,  best  quality  of  brass. . .  15 

Purse,  extra  size  to  contain  fee i  00 

Total  expenses  for  marriage $43  65 

I  bought  the  goods  on  credit,  promising  to  pay  the 
cash  immediately  on  my  return.  It  was  my  desire  to 
meet  Sennacherib's  wishes  as  nearly  as  possible,  since 
I  expected  him  to  pay  handsomely  for  my  pains.  My 
next  care  was  to  interpret  his  request — "please  come 


276  Good  Gumption 

in  most  fashionable  shape."  I  had  never  given  much 
attention  to  such  shapes,  and  found  considerable  diffi- 
culty in  getting  the  information  I  wanted.  At  that 
time,  the  most  fashionable  shape  for  women  was  "the 
Grecian  bend,"  but  it  was  not  so  clear  what  was  the 
proper  form  for  men.  As  I  traversed  the  streets,  or 
rather  the  street,  of  Doodle  Town,  since  there  was  but 
one,  I  closely  observed  the  attitude  of  the  most  fash- 
ionable men.  But  they  were  all  different.  One  looked 
like  a  toad  and  another  like  an  ape.  Still  others  like 
whisky  barrels,  fence-rails,  pumpkins  stuck  on  knit- 
ting-needles, gimlets,  corkscrews,  and  walking  clothes- 
frames.  None  of  these,  however,  suited  me,  nor 
seemed  the  proper  thing  for  a  wedding,  so  I  struck 
an  attitude  and  took  a  shape  of  my  own,  with  my  head 
thrown  back  at  an  angle  of  forty-seven  degrees,  my 
hair  pompadoured,  my  repose  of  face  broken  only  by 
a  joyous  grin,  my  body  erect  with  legs  two  feet  apart 
at  the  bottom,  and  the  general  appearance  that  of  a 
man  who  had  swallowed  a  bank. 

Rigged  in  my  finery,  in  superb  shape,  seated  on 
Bucephalus,  I  set  out  for  Mudville  in  high  glee,  some- 
what embarrassed,  however,  to  know  how  to  accept 
in  a  graceful  manner  without  betraying  the  least  ea- 
gerness, the  splendid  remuneration  that  would  be  of- 
fered me  by  Tongs.  I  thought  it  most  probable  Sen- 
nacherib would  either  fling  his  purse  at  me,  with  the 
command  to  help  myself  to  satiety,  or  else  summon 
me  by  an  escort  of  lordly  grooms  into  his  private  office 
and  hand  me  in  a  royal  way  a  check  that  would  break 
a  couple  of  ordinary  banks. 

After  two  days  and  a  half  of  weary  riding  under  a 


Sennacherib  Tongs  Weds  277 

relentless  sun,  I  reined  up  my  foaming  steed  in  front 
of  the  Spring  Chickens  House,  where  I  found  a  ragged 
urchin  waiting  to  conduct  me  to  the  residence  of  the 
bride.  I  should  like  to  give  here  a  description  of  the 
hotel,  but  I  have  never  seen  a  dictionary  that  contained 
a  single  word  that  would  give  the  slightest  conception 
of  it,  or  of  any  of  its  parts.  I  shall  only  say  for  the 
benefit  of  the  traveling  public,  if  night  overtakes  you 
in  the  vicinity  of  Mudville,  select  a  respectable  fence- 
corner,  turn  a  kerosene  barrel  over  yourself,  and  take 
the  chances  outside  rather  than  roost  with  the  Spring 
Chickens. 

"Poller  me,  boss;  I'll  take  you  dar,"  said  the  negro 
boy  who  met  me,  conscious  of  the  dignity  of  his  mis- 
sion. He  rolled  the  whites  of  his  eyes  at  me  a  time  or 
two  and  darted  off  before  my  mule.  When  I  had  pro- 
ceeded about  half  a  mile  out  of  town,  my  tawny  guide 
halted  on  one  foot,  whistling  a  negro  jig  before  a 
double  log  hut  that  stood  on  the  roadside.  Several 
horses,  in  apparent  need  of  repairs,  and  a  few  rickety 
buggies,  stood  about  the  door,  rendering  the  scene 
neither  impressive  nor  imposing. 

"Go  on!"  said  I,  to  the  sable  lad,  impatiently;  "I 
don't  care  to  stop  at  a  stable  when  I'm  dressed  for  a 
wedding.    Go  on !'' 

"Dis  is  de  residence  of  de  bride's  fodder,"  he  re- 
joined, whereupon  I  sighed.  In  a  moment  Mr.  Tongs, 
my  bridegroom,  came  out  to  meet  me  at  the  gate,  as 
gorgeously  appareled  as  a  peacock. 

"Mr.  Beans,  I  wish  to  see  you  a  moment  privately," 
said  he,  in  confidence. 

"Certainly,  sir,"  replied  I,  thinking  matters  were 


278  Good  Gumption 

moving  financially  in  the  right  direction,  and  involun- 
tarily placing  my  right  hand  on  my  new  purse.  On 
turning  the  corner  of  the  yard  fence,  Sennacherib 
stopped  gracefully,  and  after  the  manner  of  a  king, 
drew  from  his  pocket  an  enormous  envelope,  apparent- 
ly well-filled,  and  deposited  it  in  the  palm  of  my  grate- 
ful hand.    I  bowed  low  in  acknowledgment. 

"Eureka !"  thought  I.  In  the  upper  left  corner  were 
printed  these  suggestive  words,  "Office  of  Register  of 
Deeds."  Ah!  I  understood  it  now.  If  the  yellow 
wrapper  did  not  contain  a  handful  of  $ioo  bills,  it  at 
least  contained  a  deed  to  a  house  and  lot  in  Mudville, 
or  a  suburban  farm.  I  did  not  care  to  evince  a  carnal 
mind  by  looking  into  the  envelope,  but  carelessly 
shoved  it  into  my  inner  pocket,  as  if  I  were  used  to 
such  things. 

The  ceremony  was  performed  in  a  very  happy  style 
by  a  very  happy  man,  who  at  once  left  Mudville  for 
more  familiar  parts.  I  did  not  dare  to  open  my  valua- 
ble package  on  the  way,  for  fear  that  some  one  on  the 
highway  should  discover  my  good  fortune  and  render 
me  liable  to  robbery.  I  reached  my  boarding  place  in 
Doodle  Town  at  9  p.m.,  and,  after  a  hasty  supper,  re- 
tired to  my  room  to  have  my  rejoicing  alone.  I  bolted 
the  door  and  then  locked  it.  I  shut  the  windows  after 
securely  fastening  the  blinds.  Then  I  lowered  the 
curtains.  Next  I  stuck  a  wad  of  paper  in  the  keyhole 
and  lighted  the  lamp.  Finally  I  took  out  my  treasure, 
opened  the  envelope,  and  behold!  it  was  a  marriage 
license. 

Three  weeks  passed  by,  and  then  His  Excellency,  S. 
Tongs,  made  request  through  the  mail  for  a  certifi- 


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(279) 


280  Good  Gumption 

cate  of  marriage,  saying,  "I  have  gotten  a  good  bar- 
gain, and  I  want  it  certified,  you  know.  Let  it  be 
something  handsome,  and  in  most  fashionable  shape. 
Give  us  a  sample  of  your  best  style;  you  understand 
what  sort  of  people  we  are,  Beans." 

"Yes,"  said  I  to  myself,  "I  understand.  This  is  the 
same  Tongs ;  no  improvement,  no  repentance,  no  con- 
science, the  same  brassy  Tongs.  Certainly  he  shall 
have  a  certificate  of  marriage."  Whereupon  I  pre- 
pared one  for  him  of  which  the  following  is  a  copy : 

This  is  to  certify  that  one  Sennacherib  and  a  certain  Polly 
Muggins  became  by  marriage  a  pair  of  Tongs  on  April  30  in 
the  city  of  Mudville. 

This  is  to  certify  further,  that  I  made  no  charge  against 
the  said  S.  Tongs  and  the  unsaid  P.  Muggins  for  uniting 
them  in  matrimony.  I  donated  my  five  days  spent  in  making 
the  round  trip,  which,  at  the  rates  of  a  common  cobbler  would 
have  been  only  $5.00;  I  gave  the  service  of  Bucephalus,  worth 
not  more  than  $3.75;  I  performed  the  ceremony  free;  I  con- 
tributed $2.50  required  for  my  wayfare  along  the  route;  I 
made  a  present  of  10  cents  to  the  negro  boy  for  valuable  guid- 
ance rendered ;  I  took  no  account  of  other  expenses  demanded 
by  the  aforesaid  Tongs'  stipulations ;  for  I  can  borrow  enough 
money  to  keep  my  creditors  from  arresting  me. 

I  still  further  certify  that  when  curious  people,  who  have 
discovered  that  there  was  no  fee  in  the  case,  contend  that 
Tongs  couldn't  pay  his  taxes,  that  he  was  broke,  and  that  he 
married  to  get  help,  I  always  state  that  I  made  no  charge ;  that 
I  gave  my  time,  my  mule,  my  services,  and  my  money ;  that 
I  have  no  bill  against  Tongs ;  and  that  if  I  were  summoned 
to  his  deathbed,  there  would  be  no  charge  for  my  time,  serv- 
ice, or  mule ;  while  all  expenses  would  be  donated  in  so  worthy 
a  cause,  and  the  funeral  would  be  without  fee. 

Given  under  my  hand  and  seal  without  charge  or  fee. 

H.  Beans. 


Sennacherib  Tongs  Weds  281 

In  one  round  seven  days,  a  registered  letter,  post- 
marked "Mudville,"  made  me  richer  by  $11.35 — the 
sum  of  the  figures  named  in  my  certificate. 

And  as  I  looked  at  this  my  first  real  fee  for  the  con- 
solidation of  two  hearts  and  lives  into  one,  I  wondered 
when  the  consolidation  process  was  going  to  happen 
to  Polytechnic  and  me.  It  was  the  full  swing  of 
Springtime.  Flowers  were  everywhere — along  the 
wayside,  in  the  meadow,  on  the  hills,  in  the  woods, 
growing  in  pots,  opening  in  vases,  blooming  on  maid- 
ens' cheeks.  Wreaths  of  beauty,  songs  of  joy,  scenes 
of  glory  everywhere!  Oh,  that  I  were  married! 
Hadn't  I  the  hardest  luck  in  the  world? 


/  BECOME  A  MARRIED  MAN 


Chapter  XXIII. 


I  SAT  in  my  room  in  my  home  at  Shakerag  ponder- 
ing, as  I  always  did  before  undertaking  any  great  or 
momentous  adventure.  The  sum  of  my  cogitations 
was  most  joyful.  Yes,  said  I,  to  myself,  Moses  was 
the  meekest  man,  Samson  was  the  strongest,  Methu- 
selah the  oldest,  Solomon  the  wisest,  but  Heredity 
Beans  is  by  long  odds  the  happiest.  Sure  enough? 
Yes,  this  Wednesday,  the  15th  day  of  June;  this  is 
the  day  Polytechnic  Campbell  chose  as  the  one  on 
which  she  would  become  Mrs.  Heredity  Beans.  The 
marriage  moment  is  to  be  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening. 
Just  think  of  it!!  At  that  hour  she  will  be  forever 
merged  into  another ;  Polytechnic  Campbell  will  depart 
and  Mrs.  Beans  arrive.  At  eight  o'clock — let's  see, 
what  time  is  it  now?  Great  lightningrods,  it  is  six  al- 
ready !  Only  two  hours  of  sixty  minutes  each — that's 
one  hundred  and  twenty  minutes — left  before  the  wed- 
ding. Hurrah  for  the  Beans  family  and  three  cheers 
for  its  greatest  member,  the  Reverend  Heredity !  Hur- 
rah for — 

Bang!     Bang!     Bang!     Who's  knocking  at  the 

door?    "Come  in,"  I  yelled,  and  the  door  opened.    In 

walked  the  church  treasurer,  Mr.  Squeeze.    He  wore 

his  most  financial  smile  and  bore  in  his  pudgy  fist  his 
(282) 


I  Become  a  Married  Man  283 

monthly  report.  I  knew  what  that  meant  and  my  hi- 
larity went  down  like  the  mercury  in  the  bottom  of  a 
thermometer  out  of  which  the  bottom  had  dropped. 
He  was  come  to  owe  me  my  salary — and  this  my  wed- 
ding-night, too.  I  sighed  and  Mr.  Squeeze  deposited 
before  my  eyes  his  account  of  the  church's  dealings 
with  me.    It  said : 

PASTOR'S  SALARY  ACCOUNT. 
I  bu.  black-eyed  peas $  o  60 

1  bu.  corn 75 

2  loads  fodder 80 

I  load  shucks 15 

1  speckled  rooster , .         30 

3  ganders i  50 

2  drakes 70 

5  strings  red  pepper 60 

2  bu.  onions i  50 

I  pair  goats 4  00 

1  half  doz,  grindstones 5  00 

2  tomcats,  warranted  mousers,  extra  stripe  on  tails.  .  3  36^ 
I  sheepskin  for  saddle 50 

I    pk.   peanuts 45 

I    pair   knit   suspenders 50 

I  corn-cob,  extra  size  for  pipe,  red 05 

I  pair  shoe-strings,  goat  skin 05 

3  comforts,  75  cents  each 2  25 

30  pair  socks,  at  12^  cts.  per  pair 3  75 

I  hickory  walking-stick 20 

r   bundle  quill  toothpicks lO 

I  corkscrew   (not  the  Beans  type) 15 

I    second-hand  curry-comb 30 

Cash    I  60 

Total  amount  due  to  June  15 $29  16^ 

When  T  had  perused  the  above  bill  of  lading,  the 


284  Good  Gumption 

treasurer  handed  me  the  $i.6o  in  cash — mostly  pen- 
nies— remarking  as  he  did  so,  "Old  Doodle  Town  is 
true  to  her  obligations."  Yes,  thought  I,  as  some 
men  count  truth;  and  looking  through  my  little  win- 
dow, I  turned  my  ophthalmics  toward  Job's  Coffin,  un- 
consciously whistling, 

I  want  to  be  an  angel 
For  Polytechnic  was  already  one.  Then,  with  the 
magnanimity  of  a  man  that  had  approached  angeldom, 
I  returned  the  bill  to  the  treasurer  with  the  suggestion 
that  he  send  the  invoice  and  the  goods  to  the  Orphan 
Asylum. 

I  walked  calmly  and  slowly  out  into  the  back  yard, 
and  took  a  seat  on  the  root  of  a  red-oak  tree.  Then 
T  soliloquized.  I  shall  in  a  few  minutes  become  a 
double  man.  I  happily  shall  become  the  slave  of  a 
cherub ;  to  her  I  will  surrender  the  freedom  of  my  will, 
the  control  of  my  money,  the  exercise  of  my  brains, 
the  use  of  my  time,  the  love  of  my  heart,  and  the  serv- 
ice of  my  mule,  on  the  sole  condition  that  she  make  me 
do  as  I  please.  "Abandon  hope,  ye  that  enter  here;" 
"Farewell!  a  long  farewell,  to  all  my  greatness!  This 
is  the  state  of  man." 

Then  I  solemnly  returned  to  the  little  room  that  T 
had  occupied  before  accepting  work  at  Doodle  Town, 
and  located  for  half  an  hour  before  the  looking-glass, 
trying  to  make  an  ugly  phiz  appear  respectable.  If 
I  could  have  had  another  half  hour,  I  think  I  would 
have  done  it,  but  the  time  was  up  for  my  departure  to 
Coon  Hollow.  I  tied  my  cravat  hastily  (I  wonder 
why  a  man  is  always  in  a  hurry  on  his  wedding-day, 
when  he  has  so  many  years  to  prepare  beforehand), 


I  Become  a  Married  Man  285 

put  on  my  coat,  drew  on  my  kids,  jumped  into  my 
father's  old  buggy,  and  applied  a  royal  hickory  to 
Bucephalus,  as  a  necessary  part  of  the  programme. 

How  it  sped!  I  don't  mean  Bucephalus,  but  time. 
It  was  already  nearly  eight  o'clock,  while  I  was  still 
several  miles  from  my  journey's  end.  My  beast  had 
not  caught  the  spirit  of  the  occasion,  for  he  was  un- 
usually  slow.  In  order  to  make  better  progress,  I 
stood  up,  holding  the  reins  firmly  in  one  hand,  and 
grasping  the  rod  of  discipline  in  the  other,  and  sang, 
as  my  mule  assumed  an  enforced  gallop,  the  following 
stanzas  of  an  old  nursery  rhyme : 

I    love    my    mammy, 

I  love  my  daddy, 
I  love  my  sweetheart 

Better'n  anybody. 

The  rain  come  wet  me; 

The  sun  come  dry  me. 
Take  care,  ugly  girl, 

Don't  come  nigh  me. 

As  I  drove  through  the  main  street  of  Toadville,  I 
had  not  forgotten  to  make  proper  arrangements  to 
celebrate  the  glad  occasion  toward  which  I  moved. 
Putting  the  reins  around  my  neck,  and  seizing  moth- 
er's dinner  bell  in  one  hand,  and  a  cow  bell  in  the 
other,  I  started  the  wedding  music,  making  all  the 
joyous  fuss  and  all  the  hymeneal  tintinnabulations  that 
these  instruments  could  produce.  The  people  flocked 
to  the  street,  boys  stood  on  gateposts,  maidens  looked 
out  of  windows,  Toothpick  Wheazles  stood  on  the 
post  office  steps,  dogs  barked  and  howled,  cows  lowed, 
the  crowd  cheered,  my  bells  rang,  and — Bucephalus 


286  Good  Gumption 

ran  away.  It  was  a  most  unpropitious  time  for  an  ac- 
cident, but  mules  have  not  a  very  nice  sense  of  pro- 
priety, and  as  a  result,  my  buggy  was  turned  over  and 
I  was  left  in  a  wayside  ditch,  which  fortunately  was 
dry.  When  I  crawled  up  to  the  road  again,  Bucepha- 
lus was  grazing  twenty-five  yards  from  me,  as  if 
nothing  had  happened.  I  righted  the  vehicle  (which 
seemed  not  to  be  damaged)  and  again  went  on  my 
happy  way. 

Arriving  at  Coon  Hollow  a  little  late,  I  found  every- 
body waiting  but  myself.  Indeed  I  was  not  ready  by 
several  minutes.  In  my  exertion  to  bring  Bucepha- 
lus to  a  proper  discharge  of  his  duty,  I  had  burst  irrep- 
arably my  right  glove.  Now  this  may  seem  a  small 
matter  to  a  man  who  is  not  about  to  be  married;  but 
when  it's  after  the  hour  for  the  ''solemnization  of 
matrimony,"  and  all  are  faultlessly  gloved,  it  is  quite 
a  serious  matter  to  the  bridegroom.  There  being  no 
space  for  deliberation,  I  put  the  left  glove  on  my  right 
hand,  though  the  little  finger  wasn't  a  perfect  fit  for 
my  thumb,  stuck  my  left  hand  into  my  pocket,  holding 
my  arm  akimbo  for  Polytechnic's  clasp — and  was 
ready  for  the  fray. 

The  preacher  was  standing  in  front  of  the  fireplace, 
and  the  spectators  had  taken  their  position  on  each 
side  of  the  room,  looking  wisely  at  each  other,  and 
occasionally  smiling.  In  my  haste,  and  in  the  dark- 
ness of  the  hall  in  which  the  bridal  party  formed,  I 
somewhat  unceremoniously  grabbed  what  I  thought 
was  the  bride,  and  against  her  earnest  remonstrance 
and  most  emphatic  protestation,  which  I  took  to  1:»e 
but  a  manifestation  of  excessive  modesty  and  embar- 


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(287) 


288  Good  Gumption 

rassment,  dragged  her  before  the  clergyman.  For 
some  reason,  the  minister  was  unable  to  begin  the 
ceremony,  and  was  convulsed  with  secret  laughter, 
which  I  attributed  to  the  attitude  my  gloveless  hand 
had  to  assume,  but  the  others,  too,  had  caught  the  hu- 
morous fit — some  of  them  leaning  against  the  wall, 
shaking;  others  stuffing  their  handkerchiefs  down 
their  throats,  wheezing.  Just  then  I  chanced  to  look 
up,  and  behold!  it  was  Mrs.  Campbell.  The  mistake 
was  soon  corrected,  and  Polytechnic,  standing  with 
me  before  the  hymeneal  altar,  became  my  wife. 

This  was  too  much  for  me.  Glory  had  gotten  ripe. 
Livingston  relates  that  Sekwebu,  an  African  savage, 
could  not  endure  the  splendor  of  the  vessel  on  which 
he  embarked  for  England,  and,  overcome  by  the  won- 
ders of  European  civilization,  his  overtaxed  mind  gave 
way,  and  at  the  first  landing  the  untutored  pagan  slid 
down  the  anchor  cable  into  the  sea,  never  to  be  seen 
again.  Marriage  had  somewhat  the  same  efTect  on 
me.  I  was  dazed.  Polytechnic  had  just  vowed  in  the. 
presence  of  witnesses  to  be  mine  so  long  as  we  both 
should  live.  Every  ringlet  of  her  beautiful  hair,  every 
eyelash,  and  every  filament  of  her  eyebrows,  all  for- 
ever mine!  This  exceeded  even  the  utmost  reach  of 
my  imagination ;  so  raising  my  hands  toward  the  ceil- 
ing, I  sat  down  in  the  middle  of  the  f^oor  and  laughed. 

Next  morning,  the  happiest  mortal  on  whom  ever 
shone  the  quenchless  sun,  with  Polytechnic  by  my 
side,  chirping  like  a  bird,  I  started  of¥  to  Doodle 
Town.  Bucephalus  himself  seemed  mirthful,  as 
sweetly  sped  the  morning  hours.  Every  tree  was  a 
prophet  of  joy;  every  blade  of  grass  a  poem;  every 


I  Become  a  Married  Man  289 

flower  a  benediction ;  and  every  rippling  brook  a  choir 
of  celestial  symphonies.  A  trifle  after  twilight,  we  ar- 
rived at  Doodle  Town;  where,  in  the  little  cottage  I 
had  rented,  the  brethren  and  sisters  awaited  us  with 
greetings  of  joy.  We  found  the  table  nicely  spread 
and  an  excellent  meal  ready. 

After  tea  was  over,  I  heard  a  terrible  hullaballoo  at 
the  front  door;  and  on  opening  it  discovered,  to  my 
great  astonishment,  an  army  of  besiegers,  bearing  in 
their  hands  an  indescribable  variety  of  bundles,  boxes, 
and  bags.  Onward  rushed  the  invaders,  until  passage, 
parlor,  and  dining-room  were  full.  I  sought  seats  for 
the  great  multitude ;  but  alas !  I  had  but  three  chairs 
to  my  name,  besides  a  spittoon  and  a  blacking-box,  all 
of  which  I  freely  offered  for  public  use.  Polytechnic, 
with  that  wondrous  instinct  of  woman,  set  to  work 
dispassionately  to  arrange  the  generous  bestowments 
of  our  friends,  as  if  nothing  unusual  had  happened. 
Not  so  with  me.  Carried  away  with  gratitude  to  the 
unexpected  visitors,  and  feeling  it  incumbent  upon 
me  to  "make  a  few  remarks,"  I  gracefully — Polytech- 
nic says  it  was  graceful — mounted  a  lately-arrived 
barrel  of  flour  and  discoursed. 

''Dearly  beloved  brethren,"   said   I,   ''with  hearty 

thanks  for  your  unexpected  and  unspeakable  goodness, 

allow  me  to  hope  that  prosperity  commensurate  with 

your  charity  may  return  in  ample  showers  on  your 

heads,  and  that  my  marriage  may  prove  as  great  a 

public  blessing  as  private.    Moreover — "  here  the  head 

of  the  half-filled  barrel  fell  in,  and  my  oratory  came 

to  an  abrupt  pause,  all  hands  agreeing,  however,  that 

the  speaker  was  very  floury. 
19 


A     PASTORAL      VISIT 


Chapter    XXIV 

When  Aristotle  Squat,  one  of  my  flock,  passed 
away,  of  course,  the  Squat  family  went  into  deep 
mourning,  adapting  the  latest  fashions  to  the  black- 
ness of  darkness.  If  the  broken-hearted  love  darkness 
rather  than  light,  and  think  they  can  retain  the  mem- 
ory of  the  dead  better  in  the  black  folds  of  a  dress  or 
in  the  ebon  meshes  of  a  veil,  and  at  the  same  time,  with 
a  degree  of  philanthropy,  encourage  the  art  of  the 
modiste,  it  would  seem  nobody's  business  but  their 
own.  Everything  about  the  Squat  home  and  garb  was 
solid  black — black  as  an  intensified  crow.  Black  dress- 
es, black  collars,  black  bonnets,  black  earrings  and 
hairpins,  black  toothbrush,  black-edged  cards,  envel- 
opes, and  handkerchiefs,  a  black  dog,  and  a  black  cat. 
This  Is  first-class,  deep  mourning,  highly  respectable 
and  proper,  and  reminds  people  that  the  family  has 
had  a  funeral  at  their  house — and  that's  worth  con- 
siderable. 

This  state  of  things  lasted  with  Mrs.   Squat  six 

weeks,  and  then  a  lilac  flower  bloomed  in  her  bonnet, 

and  spotted  dresses  took  the  place  of  black.    The  spots, 

tiny  at  first,  kept  getting  larger  and  larger,  until  the 

black  disappeared,  and  the  mourner  wore  bright  colors 

again. 

(290) 


A  Pastoral  Visit  291 

As  I  was  going  down  to  the  post  office  in  Doodle 
Town  one  morning,  I  chanced  to  meet  Mrs.  Squat — 
whose  tongue  wagged  six  times  while  her  brain 
wagged  once — decked  in  flounces,  feathers,  and  flow- 
ers, as  happy  as  a  lark  when  he  carols  his  grateful 
song  in  a  cloudless  sky.  Alas,  poor  Squat!  The 
grass  had  not  yet  performed  its  kindly  offices  over  his 
grave,  nor  had  the  neighbors  ceased  to  speak  of  his 
last  illness — but  his  memory  with  his  wife  was  no 
more. 

"Why,  Mr.  Beans!"  exclaimed  the  happy  widow, 
in  surprise,  as  she  confronted  me  on  the  sidewalk. 

"Why,  Mrs.  Squat!"  said  I,  in  equal  astonishment, 
though  from  a  different  cause. 

"Mr.  Beans,"  said  she;  "I'm  goin'  to  be  honest  with 
you,  because  you  are  my  pastor,  and  the  only  spiritual 
adviser  I  have,  now  that  dear,  sainted  Mr.  Squat  is 
dead  an'  gone.  Yes,  Mr.  Beans,  I  must  speak  my 
mind  plainly,  if  you  does  be  a  preacher;  for  I  have 
learned  by  sad  experience  that  preachers  is  humant  as 
well  as  other  folks,  and  is  jest  as  liable  to  faults  as  us 
who  don't  make  sich  pretensions  in  spiritual  things. 
I  must  say,  Mr.  Beans,  I'se  been  thinkin'  mighty  hard 
of  you  for  not  comin'  to  see  me  oftener  in  my  deep, 
terrible  affliction  since  I'se  been  left  a  lone  and  for- 
saken widow.  Poor  Mr.  Squat  breathed  his  last  breath 
of  life  nine  weeks  ago  yestiddy,  an'  you  hain't  dark- 
ened my  door  but  twict  in  that  time — an'  I  a  poor, 
afflicted,  feminine  widow!" 

"My  dear  madam,  you  show  affliction  as  lightly  as 
any  one  I  ever  saw.  I  am  sure,  if  affliction  is  a  dis- 
ease, you  will  speedily  and  permanently  recover.    You 


292  Good  Gumption 

are  convalescing  grandly  now.  I  am  not  conscious  of 
having  neglected  you ;  on  the  contrary,  I  have  paid  you 
really  more  attention  than  your  case  demanded,  call- 
ing several  times  when  you  were  either  visiting  or  wit- 
nessing a  baseball  match." 

"But  my  poor,  fatherless  children  are  at  home  now 
sick.  My  Tom  has  the  toothache,  an'  Peggy  has  the 
scratches.  An'  you  ain't  been  nigh  'em,  Mr.  Beans !" 
sighed  the  widow,  reproachfully. 

''Madam,"  said  I,  somewhat  impatiently,  "sick  chil- 
dren need  either  a  nurse  or  a  physician  more  than  a 
minister,  and  I  presume  you  are  now  going  for  Dr. 
Fyddlestycks.  If  so,  you  can  return  at  once  to  give 
attention  to  the  children,  and  I  shall  notify  the  doctor." 

"Now,  Mr.  Beans,  don't  scold  me,"  said  the  widow, 
coquettishly.  "Don't  scold  me;  for  I  must  tell  the 
truth:  I  have  been  worried  and  pestered  by  a  set  of 
young  folks,  till  I  consented  to  jine  'em  in  a  picnic  to- 
day.   Now  pray  don't  scold  me,  Mr.  Beans." 

"You  are  to  be  pitied  rather  than  scolded,  madam. 
For  the  sake  of  decency,  go  home  and  take  off  your 
gaudy  riggings,  scrape  the  paint  off  your  face,  empty 
your  bottle  of  hair  dye,  wash  the  children,  and  say 
your  prayers." 

But  the  gay  little  widow  of  poor  Squat  seemed  not 
to  be  seeking  advice  that  day,  and  sped  away  to  join 
a  band  of  revelers.  Poor  Squat!  dead,  buried,  and 
forgotten!  Nine  weeks — just  nine  weeks — and  the 
desolate,  weeping,  broken-hearted  wife  is  as  active  as 
the  busy  bee,  seeking  another  to  take  poor  Squat's 
place.     Again  I  say,  poor  Squat! 

Not  more  than  two  weeks  elapsed  before  I  took  oc- 


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(293) 


294  Good  Gumption 

casion  to  call  on  the  relict  of  the  lamented  Squat.  She 
met  me  at  the  door  with  the  usual  list  of  complaints, 
bewailing  her  sad  loss  in  the  demise  of  poor  Squat. 

"Well,  Mr.  Beans,  have  you  come  at  last?  Who 
would  av  thought  it?  I  was  sure  you  had  forgotten 
me !  If  I  wuz  rich  es  some  of  'em,  you'd  er  been  here 
afore  this,  I  'lowed  to  Mr.  Gripens  t'other  day." 

At  the  mention  of  the  harmonious  name  of  Gripens 
the  remainder  of  poor  Squat  blushed  as  innocently  as 
a  girl  of  forty.  Only  eleven  weeks,  but  Gripens  was 
hopeful,  and  the  widow  trustful. 

"Mrs.  Squat,''  said  I,  in  an  authoritative  voice,  "I 
have  come  this  evening,  not  to  make  a  social  call,  but 
for  pastoral  visitation."  The  widow  looked  serious. 
"I  wish  you  to  summon  all  the  children  to  the  sitting- 
room,  that  we  may  spend  the  evening  in  religious  ex- 
ercises." The  hostess  cleared  her  throat  as  if  about 
to  choke. 

The  children  were  soon  brought,  each  reluctantly 
taking  possession  of  a  corner  of  the  room,  for  fear  I 
might  be  carnivorous.  As  the  mother  returned 
through  the  back  porch,  I  heard  her  whisper  softly 
and  pathetically  to  some  one  there. 

"It's  nobody  but  that  horrid  preacher,"  I  heard  her 
say,  'T  don't  know  what  he  wants  always  to  come 
pokin'  here  for,  anyhow.  But  he  won't  stay  long ;  just 
wait  a  few  minutes,  Mr.  Gripens." 

I  thought  I  understood  enough  of  human  nature  to 
read  in  the  widow's  countenance  the  fact  that  I  had 
interrupted  a  most  interesting  interview  between  her- 
self and  the  gentleman  on  the  porch.  It  was  clear  to 
my  mind  that  matters  were  approaching  a  crisis  in  the 


A  Pastoral  Visit  295 

way  of  popping  the  question,  if  indeed  the  question 
had  not  already  been  popped.  At  all  events,  I  have 
seldom  had  so  good  an  opportunity  to  divert  myself, 
and  I  used  it  to  the  best  advantage. 

"Mrs.  Squat,"  said  I,  in  truly  pastoral  manner,  "it 
has  been  some  time  since  I  conversed  with  you  on 
spiritual  things,  and  inasmuch  as  your  heart  has  been 
greatly  softened  and  mellowed  by  adversity,  I  should 
like  you  to  relate  your  Christian  experience  since  the 
decease  of  your  lamented  husband.  I  may  be  able  to 
help  you." 

The  "crushed"  relict  put  her  scented  handkerchief 
to  her  tearless  eyes,  as  if  too  grieved  to  speak,  con- 
scious that  Gripens  was  listening  eagerly,  and  would 
not  be  likely  to  appreciate  an  exaltation  of  poor  Squat. 

"Ah !  madam,"  said  I,  in  a  loud  voice,  so  that  Grip- 
ens  could  hear  distinctly,  "I  see  that  you  loved  that 
man  as  you  can  never  love  another.  Yes,  Mrs.  Squat, 
you  will  never  look  upon  his  like  again,  and  you  will 
no  doubt  be  faithful  enough  to  his  memory  never  to 
marry." 

I  could  hear  Gripens  twisting  in  his  chair  furiously. 
Mrs.  S.  spoke  not,  and  I  continued : 

"I  assure  you,  madam,  I  am  delighted  to  know, 
from  present  indications,  notwithstanding  a  current 
rumor,  that  you  are  wise  enough  to  view  a  proposition 
of  marriage  with  disfavor,  if  not  with  disgust;  for  you 
will  have  all  your  energies  taxed  to  care  for  your  chil- 
dren. And,  too,  you  have  gotten  to  that  age  when  the 
question  of  matrimony  should  be  irrelevant.  I  sup- 
pose you  will  soon  have  an  appropriate  tombstone 
erected  to  the  memory  of  poor  Squat." 


296  Good  Gumption 

Here  Gripens'  chair  slipped,  but  the  poor  fellow 
soon  recovered  himself. 

"Now,"  said  I,  "I  shall  catechise  the  children  a  lit- 
tle, to  see  if  they  are  proficient  in  Biblical  truths. 
Poker,"  continued  I,  addressing  myself  to  a  half- 
wild  boy  in  the  corner  behind  me,  "please  repeat  the 
Ten  Commandments." 

"Never  seed  'em,  sir,"  replied  Poker,  putting  his 
hands  in  his  pockets. 

"Then,  Peggy,  be  kind  enough  to  call  over  the 
plagues  of  Egypt." 

"I  dunno,  sir,  'cep'n'  hit  was  the  smallpox  an'  yaller 
fever;  or  might  be,  the  cholery." 

"Well,  Tom,  perhaps  you  can  tell  me  who  were  the 
twelve  sons  of  Jacob." 

"He  hain't  got  but  seven  sons  and  two  gals,"  said 
Tom. 

"Which  Jacob  do  you  mean,  Tom?" 

"Ole  Uncle  Jake  Gripens,"  replied  he. 

Alore  twisting  and  turning  on  the  back  porch,  while 
inside  the  little  widow  was  gasping  for  breath. 

"Snap,"  said  I,  turning  to  the  youngest  boy,  "per- 
haps we  can  do  better  with  the  New  Testament.  Now 
name,  like  a  smart  boy,  the  twelve  Apostles." 

"I  dunno  zackly  what  you's  atter,"  snapped  Snap, 
licking  out  his  tongue  and  drawing  a  long  breath; 
"but  ole  Uncle  Jake  Gripens  has  got  er  sow  down  in 
the  meadow  with  twelve  pigs,  but  I  dunno  what  thar 
name  is.  Uncle  Jake  says  how  he's  gwine  to  give  me 
an'  Poke  an'  Tom  one  when  him  an'  ma  gits  married." 

"Snap,"  said  T,  with  fatherly  tenderness,  "never, 
even  in  jest,  use  such  shocking  language  again.    You 


A  Pastoral  Visit  297 

astonish  me.  I  know,  my  dear  boy,  you  are  only  try- 
ing to  tease  your  bereaved  mother,  to  get  her  mind 
off  of  her  recent  sorrow ;  but  some  things  should  not 
be  mentioned ;  and  under  the  circumstances,  marriage 
is  one  of  them.  Consider,  my  boy,  your  mother's  gray 
hairs  and  broken  heart;  then,  too,  you  should  not 
speak  so  lightly  of  dear  old  father  Gripens.  Poor  old 
man,  he  is  not  long  for  this  world !  Now,  Mrs.  Squat, 
please  light  the  lamp ;  I  wish  to  read  a  couple  of  pas- 
sages from  the  Scriptures." 

I  turned  to  the  prophets  and  read  about  the  valley 
of  dry  bones;  then  to  the  epistles,  and  read  Paul's 
chapter  on  widows,  and  several  portions  having  refer- 
ence to  the  training  of  children.  I  heard,  as  I  closed 
the  Bible,  a  faint  sound  on  the  porch,  which  indicated, 
on  the  part  of  Gripens,  an  expectation  of  my  speedy 
departure.  But^I  had  been  remorselessly  taken  to  task 
for  pastoral  neglect  of  this  home,  and,  so  far  as  it  lay 
in  my  power,  I  purposed  to  make  amends. 

"Tom,  my  boy,  please  put  up  Bucephalus,"  said  I. 
'T  have  found  the  evening  so  pleasant  that  I  have  de- 
cided to  stay  to  tea." 

The  widow  wilted;  and  in  a  moment  I  descried  in 
the  deepening  twilight,  as  I  looked  through  the  par- 
tially-opened blinds,  the  bent  and  disconsolate  form  of 
Gripens  making  for  the  yard  gate.  Mrs.  Squat  has 
never,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  complained  of  my  not 
paying  her  sufficient  pastoral  attention  since. 

Gripens  doesn't  speak  to  me.  And  Mrs.  Squat  still 
is  Mrs.  Squat. 


CUPID     GONE     MAD 


Chapter  XXV. 


And  now  I  must  tell  you  how  I  survived  a  marriage 
epidemic  that  struck  Doodle  Town  two  years  after  1 
took  charge  of  the  Eden  Church,  in  that  delectable 
hamlet.  The  visitation  was  short  but  sharp.  While  it 
lasted  it  was  terrific  in  its  force.  What  started  the 
disease  is  not  known ;  indeed,  no  one  had  the  temerity 
to  even  attempt  a  solution  of  the  problem,  but  I  here 
make  affidavit  that,  once  started,  the  plague  spread 
with  remarkable  rapidity  through  the  region  round- 
about Doodle  Town.  It  seized  chiefly  upon  widows  and 
widowers,  old  people  and  children,  bachelors  and  an- 
cient girls,  bringing  them  in  grotesque  pairs  to  the  hy- 
meneal altar.  Just  why  such  ill-matched  persons  wish 
to  get  married  is  one  of  the  world's  great  puzzles — 
but  I  accept  the  mystery  and  rule  philosophizing  out 
of  order.     And  so  to  resume  the  narrative: 

One  night,  as  I  sat  in  my  study  meditating  over  the 
mysteries  of  life,  a  quick  tap  at  the  door  aroused  me 
from  my  dreamful  thoughts,  and  shook  shadowy  prob- 
lems from  my  brain. 

"Come  in !"  said  I. 

And  there  entered  a  maiden  lady,  on  whose  brow 
had  sported  the  joyous  zephyrs  of  at  least  sixty-five 
summers,  followed  by  a  timid  youth  of  seventeen. 
(298) 


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(299) 


300  Good  Gumption 

"Is  your  son  sick?"  inquired  I,  scanning  the  pale 
face  of  the  boy. 

"Merty,  no!"  exclaimed  the  ancient  girl,  in  amaze- 
ment and  horror.  *'How  odd  you  are,  Mr.  Beans!" 
(putting  her  fan  to  her  chin  and  giggling).  ''I  want 
you  to  marry  me." 

"I'm  already  married,  madam;  and  should  I  ever 
enter  into  matrimony  again,  I  am  reasonably  satisfied 
that  I  should  select  a  lady  without  a  son  quite  so  large 
as  this  lad.     So  please  excuse  me." 

"Mr.  Beans,  you  do  not  exactly  understand  Miss 
Oldfossil,"  here  interposed  the  youth.  "She  and  / 
are  to  be  married,  as  you  will  see  from  this  license." 

I  held  my  breath  for  a  few  moments  in  astonish- 
ment and  consternation,  not  knowing  whether  to  cred- 
it my  sense  or  not,  until  I  discovered  that  the  law  au- 
thorized the  marriage  of  Mr.  Young  Jaybird  to  Miss 
Ann  Oldfossil.  I  commanded  the  couple  to  stand  be- 
fore me.  and  summoned  Polytechnic  to  witness  the 
ceremony. 

"Miss  Oldfossil,  I  address  you  first,"  said  I,  most 
solemnly,  "because  you  are  the  responsible  contract- 
ing party,  being,  I  presume,  of  age,  and  the  perpetra- 
tor of  this  mockery  of  marriage.  Of  course,  you 
knew  from  the  time  you  began  your  attentions  to  this 
youth,  that  the  material  of  which  husbands  are  made 
was  not  in  him,  and  that  he  never  could  rise  superior 
to  a  third-rate  husbandhood.  For  a  moderate  sum, 
you  readily  could  have  hired  the  lad  to  do  your  er- 
rands and  make  himself  useful  thus  securing  his  re- 
spect as  well  as  his  labor.  He  would  make  a  model 
waiting  boy.  but  as  a  husband  he  is  sure  to  be  a  failure. 


Cupid  Gone  Mad  301 

'The  All-wise  God  never  designed  that  such  con- 
trary interests  and  tastes  should  be  united  in  wedlock, 
but  that  marriage  should  be  a  joy  and  a  blessing, 
heaven's  own  benison,  to  both  parties,  and  that  they 
twain  should  be  one  flesh — one  in  hope,  one  in  love, 
one  in  purpose  and  life.  The  laws  of  nature  forbid 
that  either  you  or  this  youth  should  entertain  for  each 
other  marital  love ;  and  hence,  they  forbid  you  to  mar- 
ry. You  wed  him,  either  because  you  never  had  an 
opportunity  to  wxd  before,  or  because  you  want  a 
lackey  in  your  old  age.  He  marries  you  because  he  is 
too  lazy  to  work  for  his  living,  expecting  you  to  die 
and  bequeath  him  your  property  after  a  few  months, 
or  because  he  is  by  nature  an  idiot.  So,  therefore,  he's 
either  a  knave  of  a  fool.  I  cannot  conscientiously  per- 
form the  customary  marriage  service,  l)ut  I  can  so 
unite  you  that  the  boy  can  get  the  property  by  law — 
the  chief  point  of  interest  to  him,  Tm  sure. 

"Therefore,  Miss  Oldfossil,  do  you  promise  to  take 
this  child  to  be  your  adopted  son,  to  protect,  govern, 
feed,  clothe,  and  nurse  him,  so  long  as  ye  both  shall 
live?" 

"I  do!"  resolutely. 

*'Mr.  Jaybird,  do  you  promise  to  take  this  old  lady 
to  be  your  grandmother,  to  pick  up  chips,  make  fires, 
mind  the  calf,  follow,  and  obey  her,  so  long  as  ye  both 
shall  live  ?" 

"I  do,"  faintly  and  with  hesitation. 

"Seeing  ye  have  consented  to  live  together  as  grand- 
mother and  grandson,  I  pronounce  you  a  pair  of  luna- 
tics. Suffer  this  word  of  exhortation,  and  then  de- 
part in  peace :  Be  grateful,  madam,  to  this  infant  for 


302  Good  Gumption  ^ 

consenting-  to  serve  you  in  your  old  age.  Make  him 
say  his  prayers  and  go  to  church,  place  him  in  a  crib 
by  your  side  o'  nights,  and  occasionally  reward  his  phi- 
lanthropy with  a  sugar  rag.  You  should  die  at  the 
end  of  five  years,  so  that  he  may  get  possession  of  the 
property  that  he  will  so  dearly  have  won. 

''As  for  you,  Jaybird,  be  a  dutiful  child;  help  old 
granny  make  her  tea,  like  a  smart  boy.  And  may  a 
kind  fate  preserve  you  from  approaching  storms,  vol- 
canoes, and  eathquakes.    Amen." 

"Take  this  fee,  parson,"  mumbled  Jaybird,  poking 
a  fifty-cent  piece  at  me. 

"Keep  thy  silver,  son,  and  purchase  a  rattle  whereon 
to  cut  thy  wisdom  teeth." 

As  the  bridal  party  disappeared  in  the  shadows  of 
the  night.  Polytechnic,  no  longer  able  to  restrain  her 
risible  tendencies,  made  vocal  every  corner  of  the  par- 
sonage. I  myself  never  do  so  gross  a  thing  as  to 
laugh  on  such  occasions,  but  I  smiled  audibly  for  half 
an  hour,  dislocating  my  spine  at  several  important 
points.  This  was  the  beginning  of  our  epidemic  of 
marriageitis. 

Next  morning,  bright  and  early,  a  dozen  or  more 
buggies  drove  up  to  the  parsonage,  with  happy  faces 
beaming  from  them.  Of  course,  T  did  not  see  them, 
for  I  belong  to  that  class  of  wise  men  who  never  take 
advantage  of  the  sun,  and  that  variety  of  birds  whose 
ambition  does  not  run  in  the  direction  of  capturing 
the  early  worm.  The  news,  however,  was  duly  re- 
ported to  me,  and  I  soon  met  at  the  front  door  a  com- 
pany consisting  of  twenty-six  persons — two  middle- 
aged  ;  the  rest  of  all  ages.    I  met  them  with  a  smile — 


Cupid  Gone  Mad  303 

and  by  the  way,  one  of  the  hardest  things  I  am  called 
on  to  do  is  to  wear  a  perpetual  smile.    But  I  wore  it. 

"Good  morning!"  said  I.  "Fine  day  for  a  picnic! 
I  see  you've  brought  the  Sunday  school  along.  Sorry 
I  can't  join  you,  but  really  it  will  be  impossible  to-day, 
as  I  have  an  engagement  in  quite  a  different  quarter. 
Fine  day,  though !" 

All  was  still  as  death,  and  it  seemed  the  most  sol- 
emn squad  of  picnickers  I  ever  beheld.  The  intense 
silence  was  at  length  broken  by  the  man  who  was  ap- 
parently the  leader  of  the  party. 

"Parson,"  said  he,  bashfully,  "this  it  not  a  picinc. 
It's  somethin'  more  serious,  parson." 

"Ah!"  sighed  I,  "I  am  the  most  unfortunate  of 
mortals.  I  might  have  known  from  the  array  of  ve- 
hicles that  it  was  a  funeral  procession.  Please  pardon 
my  obtuseness.  Bring  the  corpse  into  the  sitting- 
room,  and  we'll  have  service  there." 

"Parson,"  said  the  man,  stammering,  "it  hain't  no 
p-p-p-picnic  nor  f-f-f-funeral.  Hit's  er  m-m-m-mar- 
riage!  These  young  uns  is  ourn — thirteen  mine, 
'leben  hern." 

"Bless  me!"  said  I,  lifting  my  hands  in  astonish- 
ment. "I  thought  men  paired  off;  I  didn't  know  they 
swarmed.  But  without  further  comment,  I  pronounce 
you  man  and  woman.  I  advise  you  to  remove  to  some 
of  the  territories,  rent  a  martin-box,  and  write  a  trea- 
tise on  the  woes  of  wedlock." 

Two  days  later  the  marriage  mania  came  to  a  focus. 
It  was  a  custom  in  Doodle  Town  and  vicinity  for  the 
marriage  ceremony  to  be  performed  at  the  parsonage. 
This,  so  far  as  the  preacher  was  concerned,  was  a 


304  Good  Gumption 

benevolent  arrangement,  since  the  fees  on  such  occa- 
sions were  considered  by  everybody — except  the  min- 
ister— as  marks  of  vulgarity.  So,  after  breakfast,  on 
the  day  in  question,  a  couple  came  to  my  study  to  be 
united  in  the  bonds  of  matrimony.  The  man  came 
hobbling  up  the  steps,  aided  by  a  rude  hickory  stick 
on  one  side,  and  a  handsome  girl  on  the  other.  He 
consisted  mainly  of  a  wig,  three  molar  teeth,  two 
arms,  one  paralyzed,  the  other  palsied;  one  leg,  the 
other  having  been  amputated  in  the  war  of  1812;  and 
one  glass  eye.  In  addition  to  the  attractions  just 
named,  he  was  deaf,  and  partly  blind  in  the  eye  that 
remained;  in  a  word,  he  was  just  such  a  man  as  the 
average  girl  would  not  fancy  for  a  husband.  But 
then,  he  had  several  hundred  dollars  invested  in  a 
western  railroad  company,  and  the  name  of  being  rich. 
This  fact  covered  the  multitude  of  his  other  short- 
comings. 

"Parson,"  gasped  the  well-nigh  exhausted  veteran, 
*T  wants  you  to  marry  me  and  this  gal." 

"Sir,"  said  I,  bawling  in  his  deaf  ear,  "you  are  a 
relic  of  barbarism,  and  should  be  arrested  and  placed 
in  the  hands  of  the  Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cru- 
elty to  Animals.  You  know  well  enough,  sir,  that  this 
fresh  but  foolish  girl  never  could,  save  for  the  hope 
of  gain,  tolerate  such  a  decayed  and  rickety  affair  as 
yourself.  There  would  be  but  one  possible  consola- 
tion for  her,  and  that  would  be  the  hope  of  your 
speedy  removal  to  another  and  distant  clime.  No, 
sir;  if  you  wish  to  employ  this  girl  as  nurse,  and  will 
her  your  property,  well  enough ;  but  as  for  the  ridicu- 
lous farce  of  marriage.  Til  commit  no  such  folly." 


Cupid  Gone  Mad  305 


"Child,"  said  I,  turning  to  the  intended  wife,  "you 
have  plenty  of  time  to  wait  for  a  respectable  offer  of 
marriage.  Go  home  and  play  with  your  dolls  awhile, 
and  never  dream  of  marrying  a  funeral  like  this  again. 
You  cannot  afiford  to  spend  the  bloom  of  your  life  in 
fixing  plasters  on  an  old  man's  back,  and  taking  him 
to  pieces  every  night  and  putting  him  up  every  morn- 
ing. No,  child ;  take  the  remains  of  what  was  once 
a  man  to  the  undertaker's  for  measurement,  and  then, 
kindly  leaving  him  at  the  apothecary's  for  repairs, 
depart  in  peace." 

Next  morning  the  marriage  notice  of  the  above- 
mentioned  parties  appeared  in  the  "Doodle  Town 
Times,"  'Squire  Grabfee  officiating. 

I  am  satisfied,  after  ample  observation,  that  three- 
fourths  of  the  girls  of  the  present  day,  rather  than  be 
old  maids,  will  consider  favorably  the  attentions  of  a 
scarecrow,  or  marry  a  pair  of  tongs,  if  dressed  in 
breeches.    But  that's  none  of  my  business. 

20 


A     SACK    OF    SOCKS 


Chapter  XXVI. 

How  did  I  happen  to  become  the  pastor  of  Top- 
lofty Church  in  the  city  of  Goalong?  I  was  called,  of 
course,  but  thereby  hangs  a  tale,  for  it  was  more  than 
three  years  after  I  preached  my  trial  sermon  to  the 
members  of  Toplofty  that  the  summons  to  me  was 
extended.  Actually,  at  the  time  I  received  it  I  almost 
had  forgotten  I  ever  had  been  in  Goalong  and  the  diffi- 
culties I  had  encountered  in  getting  there  and  staying 
there.  And  thereby  hangs  another  tale,  to  the  telling 
of  which  I  now  address  myself. 

One  fine,  never-to-be-forgotten  day  I  betook  me  to 
the  Doodle  Town  post  office  to  see  what  Uncle  Sam's 
mail  had  in  store  for  me — not  that  I  received  many 
letters,  but  that  I  always  lived  in  expectation  of  get- 
ting a  call  to  some  big  church  in  some  big  city,  a  call, 
indeed,  to  a  field  where  my  peculiar  and  great  abilities 
(as  estimated  by  myself,  my  wife,  my  father,  and  my 
mother)  might  have  full  swing.  Some  day,  I  felt, 
my  merit  must  be  recognized.  And  so  on  this  day 
when  I  went  to  the  post  office  and  the  postmaster 
handed  me  a  letter  bearing  the  imprint  of  "Toplofty 
Church,  City  of  Goalong,"  I  believed  that  at  last  it 
had  come.  With  swelling  chest  and  uptilting  chin  I 
marched  out  of  the  office  to  read  my  letter.  It  said : 
(306) 


A  Sack  of  Socks  307 

City  of  Goalong,  June  5.  - 
Rev.  H.  Beans,  Doodle  Town. 

Dear  Sir  and  Brother: 

Toplofty  Church  is  without  a  pastor,  and  I  am  in- 
structed by  the  Board  of  Deacons  to  invite  you  to 
preach  for  us  on  the  first  Sabbath  in  July,  with  view 
to  a  call. 

Your  expenses  will  be  arranged  for,  etc.  Hoping 
to  receive  a  favorable  response,  I  am, 

Yours  fraternally,  Harmonious  Sing. 

Ah,  thought  I,  exuhingly,  Toplofty  Church — in  the 
city  of  Goalong — 125,000  inhabitants — big  town — I'm 
invited  to  preach  by  a  board  of  deacons — what  is  a 
board  of  deacons?  Well,  no  matter!  I'm  invited  to 
preach — with  a  view  to  a  call ! 

Such  were  the  pleasing  reflections  that  flitted  on 
hope's  golden  wing  through  the  realms  of  the  inner 
man  of  the  Reverend  Heredity  Beans.  Immediately 
I  rushed  down  the  street,  with  elastic  tread,  to  borrow 
a  stamp  to  return  a  "favorable  response."  Ah  me! 
I  found  no  one  to  sympathize  with  me  in  my  delirium 
of  joy.  Nobody  could  lend  me  a  stamp.  It  is  true,  as 
I  stopped  in  at  the  Slim  Diet  Hotel,  Pollikins,  the 
grocer,  a  capitalist  in  a  small  way,  and  a  leading  citi- 
zen of  Doodle  Town,  offered  to  furnish  a  stamp  if  I 
would  secure  it  by  a  mortgage  on  Bucephalus.  Such 
a  measure  seemed  disparaging  to  my  faithful  mule, 
and  not  altogether  complimentary  to  myself;  but, 
under  the  necessity  that  knows  no  law,  the  papers 
were  formally  drawn  up  and  properly  signed.  My 
letter  was  soon  in  the  oflfice,  assuring  Mr.  Harmonious 
Sing  that  I  did  not  have  the  heart  to  decline  the  press- 
ing invitation  tendered  me  by  the  board  of  deacons. 


308  Good  Gumption 

Where  is  the  man  who  can  refuse  the  soHcitaticns  of 
a  board  of  deacons  representing  a  $3,000  salary,  when 
said  man  hasn't  funds  enough  to  mail  a  letter  or  buy 
a  box  of  blacking? 

My  next  care  was  to  select  a  couple  of  my  best  ser- 
mons, and  practice  them.  Accordingly,  I  sauntered 
off  at  early  morn  to  a  stretch  of  pasture  land  about  a 
mile  and  a  half  from  Doodle  Town,  where  I  retired 
to  a  cluster  of  trees,  mounted  a  gum  stump  for  a  ros- 
trum, lifted  my  eyes  toward  the  rising  sun,  and  began 
to  let  off.  The  words  flowed  like  a  wild  mountain  tor- 
rent as  it  sweeps  on  in  thunders  to  the  plain  below, 
my  voice  waxed  louder  and  louder,  like  the  sea's  deep 
roar  when  a  storm  is  shrieking  in  the  sky,  while  my 
gestures  became  with  each  burning  -sentence  more 
fiercely  sublime,  culminating  every  ten  minutes  in  a 
rhetorical  and  elocutionary  fit. 

At  the  conclusion  of  one  of  my  noblest  rhapsodies, 
I  opened  my  bewildered  eyes,  and  behold !  a  flock  of 
sheep,  attracted  by  my  oratory,  had  gathered  around 
me,  and  with  ears  bent  forward  and  heads  erect,  were 
trying  to  take  in  the  situation.  Finding,  however, 
that  my  eloquence  was  not  seasoned  with  salt,  my  un- 
gracious audience,  wagging  their  tails,  scampered  off, 
bleating,  ''Bah!  bah!  bah!"  Not  altogether  willing 
to  admit  that  my  graceless  congregation  had  pulled 
the  wool  over  my  eyes,  I  am,  nevertheless,  constrained 
to  confess  that  I  .returned  home  feeling  somewhat 
sheepish. 

But  I  was  satisfied  that  I  could  preach  for  Top- 
lofty. That  was  the  least  difficult  question  to  be  solved. 
I  must  have  something  to  preach  in  when  T  go  to  so 


A  Sack  of  Socks  309 

great  a  place  as  the  city  of  Goalong ;  for  it  would  never 
do  to  mingle  with  polished  throngs,  arrayed  in  silk 
and  satin  and  broadcloth,  dressed  in  my  old  thread- 
bare Sunday  suit.  Never!  That's  what  Polytechnic 
said,  anyhow. 

"What  shall  I  do  for  a  new  pulpit  suit,  Polytech- 
nic?" said  I  to  my  little  wife,  who  evidently  was  striv- 
ing to  solve  the  problem. 

"Take  up  a  collection,"  answered  the  little  woman, 
thinking  she  had  mastered  the  situation. 

"AMiy!  dove,  a  collection  won't  pay  now  for  the 
wear  and  tear  on  the  deacons'  hats.  Don't  you  re- 
member that  the  collection  last  Sunday  for  foreign 
missions  amounted  to  just  five  cents,  and  you  con- 
tributed that?  No:  that  will  never  do.  We  must 
mortgage  or  sell  something.  Do  I  own  anything  but 
you  and  Bucephalus?" 

"Indeed  you  do,  Red!  You  own  a  bright  future," 
said  the  little  woman,  whose  soul  seemed  to  he  made 
of  sunshine.  "And  the  day  is  not  distant  when  you 
will  move  in  the  sphere  for  which  God  created  you, 
and  when  our  present  poverty  will  vanish  as  a  specter 
before  substantial  blessings." 

I  felt  sad,  but  at  length,  concluding  there  might  be 
some  truth  in  my  wife's  prophecy,  I  asked:  "How 
many  pairs  of  socks  have  I  in  the  garret?"  For  I  had 
an  idea  I  thought  might  settle  my  troubles. 

"Red,  what  on  earth  are  you  thinking  about?" 
laughed  the  hopeful  but  puzzled  little  wife. 

"Never  mind:  how  many?" 

"Dear  me ;  I  don't  know.  There  are  a  great  many — 
about  two  trunkfuls  I  think — for  you  have  received 


310  Good  Gumption 

most  of  your  salary  in  socks  for  the  last  eight  months. 
But,  pray,  what  has  started  you  oft'  on  socks?" 

"I'm  going  to  pay  my  way  to  the  city  of  Goalong 
with  them,  and  there  get  a  suit  of  clothes  on  credit." 

"Why  can't  you  get  it  on  credit  here  ?"  asked  Poly- 
technic, recovering  from  a  convulsion  of  laughter. 

"Because  I  already  owe  every  man  in  the  town  ex- 
cept the  undertaker,  and  haven't  the  face  to  ask  more 
indulgence,"  responded  I. 

So,  hastily  repairing  to  the  garret,  Polytechnic's 
whole  face  lighted  up  with  merriment,  her  eyes  spark- 
ling with  fun,  we  found  the  socks  by  actual  count  to 
number  four  hundred  and  seventy-nine  pairs.  This 
number  I  deemed  sufficient  to  justify  my  taking  the 
train  for  Goalong. 

Bidding  Polytechnic  adieu,  as  she  proudly  exhorted 
me  to  do  my  best  at  Toplofty,  I  rode  to  the  station  and 
asked  for  a  minister's  ticket  to  Goalong. 

"$8.35,"  said  the  laconic  man,  as  he  handed  me  a 
ticket. 

"Sir,"  said  I,  bashfully,  "I  have  zeal  and  I  have 
knowledge,  but  I  have  no  money;  I  have,  however,  a 
sack  of  socks.    \\'ill  you  take  pay  in  socks  ?" 

The  agent  screwed  his  spectacles  on  his  thin  nose, 
leveled  them  at  me,  and  sighed.  At  length,  recover- 
ing from  the  shock,  he  gasped,  "Where  in  whiskers 
did  you  come  from,  anyhow?" 

"I  am  the  Bishop  of  Doodle  Town,"  said  T.  calmly. 

"Who  is  the  Bishop  of  Doodle  Town  ?"  inquired  the 
agent,  sarcastically. 

"Myself,"  rejoined  T,  meekly. 

"Who  are  you,  then?" 


A  Sack  of  Socks  311 

"The  Bishop  of  Doodle  Town." 

The  thin-nosed  man  tried  to  get  mad,  but  in  spite 
of  himself,  he  obeyed  the  better  law  of  his  nature,  and 
broke  out  into  a  laugh. 

"What  would  the  railroad  do  with  your  socks?" 
said  he. 

"Wear  them.  They  are  good  socks,  home  knit. 
Look  at  a  pair." 

The  weary  man  examined  the  specimen  pair  lan- 
guidly, and  then  passed  them  back  to  me,  saying  sym- 
pathetically, "I  would  like  to  accommodate  you,  but 
the  railroad  don't  wear  socks." 

"Then  buy  them  yourself,"  insisted  I. 

"How   many  pairs   would   it   take   to   amount   to 

$8.35  ?" 

"Well,  let  me  see,"  said  I,  making  a  mental  calcu- 
lation ;  "at  twelve  and  a  half  cents  it  would  take  about 
sixty-seven  pairs." 

"Whew!"  whistled  the  agent;  "I  don't  care  to  go 
into  the  wholesale  sock  business." 

"But  see  here,"  said  I,  growing  both  serious  and 
wise ;  "see  here,  agent,  you  are  an  important  factor  in 
the  great  railway  business  of  this  glorious  land — the 
land  of  plenty  and  the  home  of  liberty.  This,  sir,  is 
heaven's  favored  clime,  in  whose  liquid  sunshine  the 
great  American  eagle,  on  wings  of  fire,  shrieks  in  the 
ears  of  the  admiring  universe  'E  pluribus  unum !'  In 
this  land,  sir,  the  garden  spot  of  the  earth,  the  birth- 
place of  genius,  and  the  cradle  of  colossal  railroads — in 
this  land,  sir,  you  live  and  of  its  heroic  people  are  a 
component  part.  Sir,  you  are  a  man — and  what  would 
this  world  do  without  men?    In  the  language  of  the 


312  Good  Gumption 

immortal  poet,  I  say,  calmly,  deliberately,  and  em- 
phatically, 'It  couldn't  navigate  worth  a  cent!'  It  is 
in  your  power,  sir,  to  .carve  your  name  on  the  topmost 
round  of  the  ladder  of  benevolence,  and  to  reap  a 
golden  harvest  of  fame.  I  implore  you,  sir,  by  the  re- 
splendent record  of  this  great  republic,  to  do  some- 
thing worthy  of  your  country  and  of  your  forefa- 
thers." 

The  appeal  was  not  in  vain.  The  spellbound  vendor 
of  tickets,  swelling  out  to  those  dimensions  that  be- 
come a  citizen  of  this  vast  government,  having  ad- 
justed his  spectacles,  put  his  thumbs  under  his  sus- 
penders, transferred  his  quid  of  tobacco  to  the  other 
side  of  his  mouth,  and  imagining  himself  to  be  a  fu- 
ture president  of  a  great  railroad,  if  not  of  the  United 
States,  inquired  eagerly,  "What  kin  I  do?" 

"Do?  Why,  take  these  sixty-seven  pairs  of  socks 
and  send  them  as  a  generous  gift  to  an  orphan  asylum ; 
and  generations  yet  unborn  will  breathe  upon  your 
memory  an  immortal  benediction." 

"Great  Snakes!  I'll  take  'em,"  exclaimed  the  man 
of  generous  impulses  and  human  tendencies. 

My  ticket  paid  for,  I  was  soon  on  the  panting  iron 
horse,  guarding  the  balance  of  my  socks,  and  speeding 
hopefully  on  for  the  city  of  Goalong.  The  jocund 
hours  (I  believe  that's  the  way  the  writers  put  it) 
sped  on  likewise,  as  I  fancied  the  hearty  reception  I 
was  to  receive  when  the  train  stopped  at  my  destina- 
tion. I  pictured  the  board  of  deacons  rushing  into 
the  car,  each  striving  to  reach  me  first,  while  the  choir 
stood  on  the  platform,  singing,  "Welcome,"  or  "See, 
the  Conquering  Hero  Comes."    I  thought  some  vener- 


A  Sack  of  Socks  313 

able  sire  with  flowing  gray  beard  would  take  me  in 
his  arms,  seat  me  in  a  coach  drawn  by  four  snowy 
steeds,  and  beseech  me  in  mellifluous  tones  to  accept 
a  call  to  Toplofty  Church.  This  was  but  a  small  part 
of  the  cordial  welcome  I  imagined  awaited  me. 

"City  of  Goalong!"  drawled  a  dilapidated  brakeman 
at  last,  in  a  high  key. 

The  train  stopped.  No  board  of  deacons  rushed 
on.  Oh !  thought  I,  they  are  waiting  for  me  to  get  off. 
So  I  lugged  my  sack  of  socks,  the  only  purse  I  had,  to 
the  car  steps,  and  jumped  off.  I  heard  no  choir,  nor 
did  a  gray-haired  sire  take  me  in  his  arms;  not  even 
did  Harmonious  Sing  meet  me  to  advise  me  where  to 
stop. 

But  about  forty  eager  Irish  and  negro  hack-drivers 
met  me  cordially.  No  man  can  have  "the  blues"  when 
he  drops  down  in  a  large  city,  among  a  host  of  cab- 
men. Each  yelled  at  me  as  if  I  were  the  only  being  of 
importance  in  the  world.  I  could  not  hear  my  ears. 
One  savage  fellow  laid  violent  hands  on  my  purse — I 
mean  my  sack  of  socks — crying,  "This  way,  sir !  this 
way."  Another  had  hold  of  my  arm,  leading  me  in 
an  opposite  direction,  singing  "All  aboard  for  Saw- 
dust Hotel !"  Another  swung  to  my  coat-tail,  declar- 
ing I  had  promised  to  ride  in  his  'bus,  while  a  strap- 
ping African  took  quiet  possession  of  my  hat,  and 
mounting  his  hack,  shouted,  "Dis  way,  boss !''  I  was 
determined  not  to  ride  in  all  the  vehicles  at  one  time, 
not  only  because  I  adhere  philosophically  to  the  motto, 
"United  we  stand,  divided  we  fall,"  but  because  such 
a  ride  necessarily  would  be  uncomfortable;  and  if  I. 
were  carried  to  a  dozen  hotels  simultaneously,  my 


314  Good  Gumption 

board  would  be  rather  extravagant.  So  I  asked  the 
Irishman,  who  was  about  to  dislocate  my  left  arm,  if 
he  could  give  me  a  little  advice. 

"And  be  sure!  Plenty  of  it,  sir,"  said  the  son  of 
Erin. 

"Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  tell  me  how  I  can  get 
myself  together  again?" 

"And  be  sure!  If  you'll  collect  your  thoughts,  I'll 
be  responsible  for  the  balance,  sir,  and  take  you  to  the 
Sawdust  Hotel  chape." 

"Hackman,"  said  I,  "I  own  but  little  of  this  world's 
goods,  and  as  the  Psalmist  has  remarked,  *I  am  poor 
and  needy.'  I  am  here  by  invitation  of  a  board  of  dea- 
cons, to  preach  at  Toplofty  Church,  as  I  suppose  you 
of  course  have  heard,  and  I  would  like  to  have  minis- 
ters' rates,  should  I  patronize  you.  What's  the  best 
you  can  do?" 

"And  be  sure,  sir !  Step  in.  It  will  cost  you  little 
or  nothing,  sure !" 

I  stepped  in  and  in  a  few  moments  Pat  announced 
that  we  had  arrived  at  the  Sawdust  Hotel. 

"What's  your  bill?"  inquired  I,  as  an  honest  man, 
half  suspecting  the  ruby-nosed  Irishman  would  make 
no  charge,  in  view  of  my  ministerial  avocation. 

"And  since  you  are  a  clergyman,  sure  I'll  charge 
you  but  five  dollars.    Chape,  sir !" 

I  sighed,  at  the  same  time  impressing  on  Pat's  mind 
a  few  thoughts  respecting  torment.  Opening  the 
mouth  of  my  sack,  I  transferred  five  pairs  of  socks  to 
Pat's  possession,  valuing  them  at  a  dollar  per  pair. 

"Now,  Pat,  old  boy,"  said  I,  to  close  the  deal,  "two 
pairs  of  these  socks  would  have  been  a  fair  price  for 


C/3 

o 


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Q 
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tq      . 
<    c/l 


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(315) 


316  Good  Gumption 

the  ride  you  have  given  me,  but  inasmuch  as  you  are 
an  honest  fellow,  and  do  not  follow  tricks  common  to 
gentlemen  of  your  profession,  I'll  reward  your  piety 
by  allowing  you  extra  pay." 

And  therewith  I  hastened  to  the  register,  leaving 
Erin's  son,  notwithstanding  my  kindness,  making  ve- 
hement gestures  with  his  fists,  and  speaking  disre- 
spectfully of  me. 

Of  course,  the  first  thing  a  philosopher  does  on  ar- 
riving at  a  hotel,  is  to  go  to  dinner.  I  am  first,  last, 
and  all  the  time  a  philosopher,  so  the  waiter  promptly 
laid  a  paper  by  my  plate,  and  put  his  ear  on  a  parallel 
with  my  mouth. 

"What's  the  matter?"  said  I. 

The  waiter  made  no  reply,  but  pointed  to  the  paper. 

*'I  don't  read  advertisements  when  I'm  eating!" 
said  I,  sternly. 

"Dat's  de  bill  of  fare,  sir,"  smiled  the  sable  at- 
tendant. 

"Look  here,  Scipio  Africanus,  have  you  the  imper- 
tinence to  present  my  bill  before  I  have  eaten  a  single 
mouthful  ?  Can't  you  trust  for  ten  minutes  an  eccle- 
siastic who  is  here  by  invitation  of  a  board  of  deacons 
to  preach  with  view  to  a  call?    Shocking!  shocking!" 

A  shower  of  explanations  followed,  and  I  ate,  after 
much  tribulation,  a  dinner  that  I  think  will  shorten 
my  life  six  months. 

I  made  it  my  first  care  after  dinner  to  repair  to  a 
barber-shop  to  get  shaved.  I  found  the  shop  a  most 
charming  place,  and  the  barber  a  most  communicative 
and  genial  companion.  It  is  said  that  there  is  no  in- 
stance in  historv  of  a  barber  who  was  either  melan- 


A  Sack  of  Socks  317 

choly  or  dumb.  1  firmly  believe  it.  I  think  he  knew 
enough  about  me  in  ten  minutes  to  write  exhaustive 
biographies  of  myself,  my  wife,  and  my  grandparents. 
I  attempted  to  answer  patiently  all  of  his  interrogato- 
ries, and  am  satisfied  the  mental  strain  cost  me  at  the 
lowest  estimate  two  pounds  of  flesh. 

After  the  inquisition  was  over,  I  inquired  the  ex- 
tent of  my  obligation,  which  I  learned  was  ten  cents. 
I  slipped  benignly  a  pair  of  socks  into  the  tonsorial  ar- 
tist's extended  hand,  and  mingled  with  "the  madding 
crowd's  ignoble  strife''  once  more.  An  hour  after- 
wards, as  I  climl^ed  up  Central  Square  Monument,  I 
espied  afar  down  Locust  Street  a  bareheaded  man 
squeezing  a  hair-brush  in  one  hand  and  holding  the 
other  just  above  his  eyes,  as  he  strained  his  vision  in 
the  direction  I  had  gone.  It  was  a  most  interesting 
sight,  and  I  wondered  what  could  be  the  matter. 

As  I  was  passing  down  a  back  street,  my  eyes  fell 
on  these  words,  printed  in  large  capitals  above  a  tent 
door : 

THE  WORLD'S  GREATEST  WONDER  ! 

WALK    IISl 

Of  course  I  walked  in.  Why  not  ?  I  was  raised  in 
the  country,  and  never  saw  many  wonders,  and  here 
was  a  kind  invitation  to  behold  the  greatest  one  in  the 
world.  So  fine  an  opportunity  of  improving  myself 
I  assuredly  did  not  intend  to  let  slip ;  hence,  commend- 
ably  enough,  I  entered  into  the  tent  in  search  of  infor- 
mation. Under  the  exciting  influence  of  the  hand- 
organ,  for  which  I  have  always  had  more  or  less  afifec- 


318  Good  Gumption 

tion,  my  spirits  rose  to  a  noble  height,  when  an  under- 
sized, fat,  and  filthy  Dutchman,  claiming  to  have  no 
arms,  seized  a  pen  in  his  toes  and  wrote  his  name  on 
a  greasy  slip  of  paper,  which  the  same  accomplished 
toe-writer  poked  at  me,  to  be  preserved  forever  as  a 
sacred  relic.  On  Joe  Schwartz's  name  I  placed  my 
self-respecting  foot,  demanding  an  explanation. 

"This  is  the  only  armless  living  man  in  either  conti- 
nent that  can  write  his  name  wath  his  toes.  He  is  also 
the  only  man,  living  or  dead,  sir,  who  ever  received  a 
medal  for  toe-wTiting  at  the  World's  Fair,"  ejaculated 
the  doorkeeper,  demanding  of  me  fifty  cents. 

'T  don't  imagine  either  continent  is  very  proud  of 
such  a  pig,  and  if  he  proposes  to  deceive  people  this 
way,  the  sooner  he  is  sent  on  a  polar  expedition  or 
placed  in  charge  of  some  enterprising  undertaker,  the 
better." 

The  doorkeeper  growled  and  the  Dutchman  swore, 
which  latter  fact  proved  he  wasn't  a  gentleman. 

"Fifty  cents,  sir !"  demanded  the  offended  innocent, 
stretching  out  his  hand  for  filthy  lucre. 

'T  thought,  sir,"  said  I,  "I  came  in  here  under  an 
invitation  that  precluded  charge ;  but  if  I  am  mistaken 
in  your  honesty  and  sincerity,  I'll  gratify  your  avarice 
by  meeting  the  demand  with  stoic  firmness." 

After  I  had  delivered  this  fitting  rebuke,  I  left  a 
couple  of  pairs  of  socks  with  the  showman,  which 
caused  some  remarks  I  do  not  care  to  repeat,  and  soon 
I  again  was  moving  with  the  stream  of  busy  humanity. 

Having  purchased  the  "Evening  Times"  from  a 
newsboy  at  the  next  corner  in  the  same  way,  I  stepped 
aboard  a  street-car  to  return  to  the  Sawdust  Hotel. 


A  Sack  of  Socks  319 

This  was  in  the  days  when  trolley-cars  were  unknown 
and  some  of  the  horse-cars  had  no  conductor,  the  pas- 
sengers dropping  their  fare  into  a  glass  box.  The  car 
was  of  this  sort.  Seeing  the  driver  was  not  permitted 
to  put  the  fare  in  the  box,  I  stepped  forward  to  put  it 
in  myself.  I  succeeded  in  stuffing  one  sock  in  the  box, 
when  the  driver  pushed  the  door  back  and  assumed  a 
menacing  attitude. 

"And  what  are  ye  stuffin'  in  there?" 
"A  pair  of  socks  which  I  received  for  salary." 
"This  company  doesn't  take  socks,  sure,  sir." 
"Then,  Pat,  if  we  can't  trade,  let  me  off." 
The  Irishman  applied  the  brake  vigorously,  and  I 
stepped  off  the  car  just  opposite  the  door  of  the  Saw- 
dust Hotel,  smiling. 

And  after  I  had  entered  the  hotel  and  had  been 
handed  a  telegram  that  had  arrived  for  me  I  smiled 
some  more,  and  indeed  I  kept  on  smiling  all  that  day 
and  the  next.  How  I  managed  to  preach  to  the  mem- 
bers of  Toplofty  Church  I  cannot  tell,  but  I  know  that 
I  did  so  and  went  home.  On  the  journey  every  once 
in  a  while  I  took  from  my  pocket  the  telegram  I  had 
received  and  read  it.  It  was  from  my  mother-in-law, 
and  it  said : 

Come  home  as  soon  as   you   have  preached  that 
sermon,  for  the  baby  has  arrived. 

Do  you  wonder  that  I  smiled? 


NEW  RESPONSIBILITIES 


Chapter   XXVII. 


Dear  reader,  I  wish  I  could  make  the  next  para- 
graph as  incoherent  as  I  feh  when  I  reached  home. 

It  was  a  boy  and  I  instantly  named  him  Wax.  He 
had  the  usual  number  of  fingers  and  toes,  and  only  one 
head.  He  weighed  ten  pounds,  seven  ounces,  and 
three  drachms.  He  never  had  been  surpassed  in  the 
American  market.  I  was  the  happiest  man  on  the 
habitable  globe.  'Twas  midnight,  but  T  flew  to  the 
church  and  pealed  the  bell  loud  and  long.  The  popu- 
lace rushed  out  to  see  what  was  burning,  for  the 
church  bell  never  spoke  at  that  hour  of  night  unless  a 
fire  had  broken  out.  The  fire  company  paraded  the 
streets  trying  to  locate  the  conflagration;  aged  men 
and  matrons  went  about  making  diligent  inquiry,  and 
maidens  hysterically  screamed  "Fire!  Fire!"  I  told 
the  people  that  it  was  not  an  alarm  bell  but  a  joy  bell, 
whereupon  all  hands  gathered  around  and  congratu- 
lated me,  despite  the  fact  that  the  village  had  known 
the  happy  news  for  several  days.  But  then,  you  see, 
I  hadn't. 

The  next  thing  that  demanded  immediate  attention 

was  to  get  my  deacons  to  telegraph  the  news  to  the 

President  and  to  send  a  cablegram  to  Queen  Victoria, 
(320) 


New  Responsibilities  321 

and  other  crowned  heads  of  Europe.  I  did  not  Hke  to 
disturb  their  rest,  but  it  seemed  necessary.  Although 
the  baby  was  three  days  old  I  had  just  arrived  and 
just  seen  him.  Besides,  this  event,  so  fraught  with 
consequences  to  all  people,  should  be  known  in  the 
world's  centers  at  once.  But  the  deacons  wouldn't 
spend  the  money.  So  I  hastened  back  to  the  parson- 
age and  spent  the  rest  of  the  night  standing  over  my 
son  and  heir  and  smiling  at  him.  Cubic  miles  of  bliss 
surrounded  me,  floods  of  delight  swept  over  me, 
oceans  of  joy  filled  me,  and  actually  I  forgot  all  about 
Toplofty  Church  and  the  city  of  Goalong,  the  sermon, 
the  call,  the  Toplofty  board  of  deacons,  and  everything 
else.  But  I  soon  came  back  to  earth  and  my  senses 
and  other  things. 

Two  weeks  flew  by — not  so  happy ;  two  months  sped 
on — miserable!  Oh,  that  I  had  the  wings  of  a  dove, 
that  I  might  soar  to  the  top  of  some  venerable  pine, 
and,  perched  upon  a  friendly  limb,  spend  one  com- 
fortable hour!  Yes,  just  one  complete  half-hour 
would  suffice  my  needs. 

"Oft  in  the  stilly  night,"  when  the  light  burnetii 
dim,  the  last  ember  freezeth,  and  the  uncharitable 
winds  unceremoniously  butt  up  against  my  dwelling, 
a  sweet,  silvery  voice  singeth  out:  "Arise,  Reddie 
dear ;  do  take  the  baby  and  walk  him  to  sleep.  It  soon 
will  be  light."  x\bout  that  time  the  thermometer  of  my 
zeal  for  babies  sinks  below  zero,  and  I  go  bouncing 
up  and  down  the  room  at  the  rate  of  ten  miles  an  hour. 
At  a  period  in  the  night  watches  when  the  vigilant 
cock  croweth  for  the  approach  of  morn,  and  when  my 
arms  are  paralyzed  and  my  toes  icicles,  I  hand  the 

21 


322  Good  Gumption 

drowsy  youngster  back  to  Polytechnic,  and  sigh  a  sigh 
of  rehef. 

"I  do  know,  Red,"  she  smiles  and  says,  "you  are  the 
best  husband  in  the  world." 

"I  reckon  I  am!"  I  reply,  taking  up  my  long-de- 
ferred pilgrimage  to  the  land  of  Nod.  I  think  fathers 
deserve  a  great  deal  of  credit.  But  they  don't  often 
get  it. 

After  the  novelty  of  the  baby  excitement  wore  off 
in  the  home  of  the  Reverend  Heredity  Beans  the  minds 
of  the  infant's  father  and  mother  began  slowly  to  come 
back  to  the  things  of  real  life,  and  among  the  first  of 
these  to.be  considered  was  the  matter  of  my  sermon 
at  Toplofty  Church.  We  waited  for  the  call  we  exr 
pected  to  result  from  it,  but  the  days  and  weeks  and 
months  went  by  without  a  word  from  the  Toploftyites. 
Gradually,  therefore,  the  thing  was  forgotten.    But — 

It  was  several  years  after  the  birth  of  Mr.  Wax 
Beans,  and  there  were  a  couple  more  of  juvenile  beau- 
ties at  my  house.  My  charge  at  Doodle  Town  had 
greatly  prospered,  though  the  church  was  not  able  to 
meet  the  growing  demands  of  my  family.  This  fact 
became  painful  and  conspicuous  whenever  Wax 
wanted  a  pair  of  boots.  Butter  a  dress,  or  Lima  a  doll. 
But  Polytechnic,  my  household  angel,  never  wanted 
anything.  Still  I  had  noticed  for  several  weeks  that 
a  shade  of  sadness  seemed  to  rest  on  her  cheerful, 
hopeful  face;  and  I  inquired  one  day,  on  returning 
home  from  the  post  office  the  cause,  for  it  was  giving 
me  uneasiness. 

"Oh !  nothing.    I  try  to  be  always  cheerful." 


New  Responsibilities  323 

"Polytechnic,  it  has  been  evident  to  me  for  some 
time  that  you  are  troubled  in  mind.  It  is  my  wish 
that  you  tell  me  all." 

"Red,  we  ought  not  to  be  unhappy.  We  have  such 
a  sweet  family,  and  so  much  to  be  thankful  for.'' 

"You  evade  my  question.  Polytechnic.  I  hope  you 
will  not  conceal  longer  from  me  the  source  of  your 
grief."   ^  ^ 

"Oh!"  burying  her  sweet  face  in  her  hands,  "it  is 
the  children — the  children  !" 

"Ah !  I  had  divined  the  secret,  but  wanted  to  know 
from  your  ow^n  lips.  I  have  never  before  been  in  a 
position  to  ask  the  question,  but  now  I  can  ofifer  relief. 
So  you  have  been  depressed  because  the  children  have 
not  the  advantages  they  should  have,  as  well  as  cloth- 
ing and  food?" 

"Yes;  indeed  I  have!  Wax  has  such  a  splendid 
mind,  yet  it  seems  we  can't  educate  him;  while  all  the 
children  lack  suitable  clothing.  I  have  ripped  up  your 
old  coats  for  the  boy,  and  my  old  calicoes  for  the  girls, 
and  still  they  are  not  properly  clad.  But  I  shall  not 
complain,  and  have  said  what  I  have  because  you 
asked  it." 

"Polytechnic,"  then  said  I,  unable  to  hold  my  secret 
any  longer,  "I  have  good  news  for  you.  Cheer  up! 
Cheer  up,  for  cherries  are  ripe." 

I  drew  her  near  my  side,  while  her  bright  eyes, 
dimmed  by  tears,  turned  upon  me  inquiringly.  I  was 
filled  with  joy. 

"I  have  here,"  said  I,  drawing  an  envelope  from  my 
pocket,  "a  letter  from  the  clerk  of  Toplofty  Church,  in 
the  city  of  Goalong,  tendering  me  a  unanimous  call. 


324  Good  Gumption 

at  a  salary  of  $3,000,  with  parsonage.  Now,  what  do 
you  think  of  that?" 

The  burden  was  gone.  Throwing  her  arms  around 
my  neck,  she  wept  great  tears  of  rehef.  Perhaps  I 
did  too.  At  any  rate,  I  could  not  talk  straight  for  a 
few  minutes. 

I  resigned  the  care  of  my  Doodle  Town  charge  at 
once,  and  hired  two  wagons  to  move  my  family  and 
household  chattels  to  the  railroad  depot.  My  furni- 
ture consisted,  in  part,  of  an  old  bedstead,  a  three- 
legged  table,  some  bookshelves,  several  chairs,  a  few 
stools,  and  a  number  of  kitchen  utensils,  such  as  tin 
pans,  kettles,  and  pots.  The  whole  lot  was  worth 
about  $15,  and  actually  sold  for  $11.35  when  I  reached 
the  station.  I  was  glad  to  get  rid  of  them,  since  they 
did  not  comport  with  a  city  pastorate.  My  wife,  two 
daughters,  and  myself  occupied  a  wagon,  while  Wax 
followed  on  Bucephalus,  whistling  ''Yankee  Doodle." 
Of  course,  we  took  the  trusty  mule  to  our  new  home, 
and  gave  him,  now  tottering  with  age,  all  the  atten- 
tion due  a  veteran  of  his  age  and  importance.  He 
was,  indeed,  a  member  of  the  family,  wearing  con- 
stantly a  band  of  red  ribbon  around  his  neck,  and 
eating  as  often  as  we  ate. 

The  first  Sabbath  of  a  new  pastorate  is  always  a 
season  of  more  or  less  anxiety  and  nervousness  to  a 
minister.  As  he  enters  his  pulpit,  he  beholds  a  sea  of 
faces  strange  to  him.  Many  persons  express  profound 
sympathy  and  readiness  to  love  him  upon  better  ac- 
quaintance, while  others  gaze  upon  him  with  stoic  in- 
difference. Some  seem  to  question  his  ability  to  fill 
the  place,  and  others  appear  to  be  mentally  engaged 


New  Responsibilities  325 

• 

in  remorseless  criticisms.  Some  are  concerned  about 
the  shape  of  his  cravat,  others  are  absorbed  in  the 
consideration  of  his  clothes.  After  the  sermon,  as  he 
steps  forth  upon  the  street,  he  hears  such  whispered 
interrogations  as,  "How  do  you  like  him?"  and  "Do 
you  think  he'll  suit?"  I  must  confess,  such  a  prospect 
did  not  put  me  in  the  best  trim  for  public  speaking, 
especially  as  I  was  unaccustomed  to  city  ways  and  to 
so  grand  a  church.  But  I  determined  to  do  the  very 
best  I  could. 

On  Saturday  evening  I  was  duly  instructed  that  the 
pastor  must  enter  the  pulpit  from  a  small  dungeon 
(called  the  pastor's  study  to  make  it  respectable)  just 
as  the  organ  should  strike  up.  Having  had  it  so  forci- 
bly impressed  upon  my  mind  that  not  to  turn  up  at 
precisely  the  right  moment  would  affect  the  whole 
sermon,  and  have  a  tendency  to  break  down  my  con- 
gregation, I  ordered  breakfast  to  be  served  half  an 
hour  earlier  than  usual,  and  by  the  help  of  a  street- 
car arrived  at  Toplofty  Church  two  hours  before  there 
could  be- any  possibility  of  the  organ's  getting  ahead 
of  me.  I  didn't  intend  to  give  it  a  chance  in  a  thousand 
to  do  so. 

After  more  than  an  hour's  patient  waiting,  I  ap- 
proached the  study  door  with  mouse-like  stillness,  and 
placed  my  ear  to  the  keyhole  to  see  if  I  could  hear 
any  tidings  from  the  choir,  but  no  sound  greeted  me 
in  the  unbroken  silence  of  the  great  edifice.  I  began 
to  think  that  the  hour  for  service  had  passed,  that  the 
organ  had  sounded,  and  that,  as  I  failed  to  come  to 
time,  the  congregation  had  dispersed ;  so  once  or  twice 
I  stealthily  opened  the  study  door  and  peeped  slyly 


326  Good  Gumption 

into  the  auditory,  to  find  how  matters  stood.  Drop- 
ping again  into  my  chair,  I  fell  asleep  from  nervous 
exhaustion,  and  dreamed  of  Doodle  Town,  longing  to 
be  there  once  more,  and  longing  to  be  back  home. 

While  I  was  dozing,  the  organ's  peal,  like  a  deafen- 
ing note  of  thunder,  broke  upon  my  startled  ear.  Un- 
der the  impulse  of  the  moment,  I  ran  obliviously  into 
the  pulpit,  and  gave  out  the  3000th  hymn.  It  took 
just  a  quarter  of  an  hour  for  the  organ  to  end  its 
march  from  "Norma,"  and  I  was  compelled  to  wait, 
under  most  distressing  embarrassment,  to  get  my 
hymn  through. 

Toplofty  Church  hired  the  chief  performers  in  its 
choir  at  large  salaries,  disregarding  spiritual  qualifi- 
cations altogether;  consequently,  the  choir  committee, 
who  should  have  spent  a  year  or  two  longer  at  the 
mourners'  bench,  or  in  Sing  Sing,  having  made  the 
acquaintance  of  all  the  orchestras  and  minstrel  troupes 
in  the  cit}'^,  selected  from  them  just  such  a  set  of  players 
and  singers  as  they  thought  would  attract  the  biggest 
rabble.  This  delectable  tribe  played  and  sang  songs 
of  doubtful  propriety  on  the  stage  until  eleven  o'clock 
Saturday  night,  and  "Coronation"  on  Sunday  morn- 
ing. They  amused  the  Bacchanalian  hosts  of  sin  six 
days,  and  guided  the  worshipers  of  Jehovah  one. 
Their  singing  commanded  so  much  money,  and  it  was 
a  matter  of  supreme  indifference  to  them  what  the 
Lord  thought  of  it,  since  it  was  intended  to  draw  a 
congregation,  and  had  no  reference  to  the  Almighty. 
It  was  immaterial  to  them  whether  they  tuned  up  on 
"Home,  Sweet  Home,"  "Yankee  Doodle,"  or  the  long 
meter  Doxology. 


h 
O 
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H 

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(327) 


328  Good  Gumption 

Besides  the  professionals,  there  were  about  two 
dozen  half-fledged  boys  and  girls  belonging  to  the 
congregation,  aping  their  musical  seniors  with  im- 
maculate reverence.  The  choristers,  being  located  in 
the  gallery  directly  in  front  of  the  pulpit,  presented  an 
amusing  spectacle.  A  dozen  bloated,  rum-scented 
fiddlers  and  stage-singers,  surrounded  by  a  lot  of 
youths,  conspicuous  for  their  scarf-pins  and  carefully 
plastered-down  hair,  and  a  bevy  of  girls  with  rouged 
cheeks,  bangs,  and  bustles,  all  gasping: 

''How  firm  a  foundation,  ye  saints  of  the  Lord, 
Is  laid  for  your  faith  in  his  excellent  word!" 

Grand  old  hymn !  A  hundred  times  has  the  weary 
pilgrim  been  strengthened  by  it.  But  who  would  have 
recognized  it  as  thus  it  came  from  the  choir  ? 

"Ha  fa  ah  fwa  dah  sha,  ya  sah  ad  thah  Lor-aw, 
Ah  la  fwa  yah  fwa-ah  ong  whang  ohx  sa  la  wha-ah !" 

At  length  the  orchestra  consented  to  attend  to  my 
hymn  for  me,  and  as  the  organ  pealed  solemnly  forth, 
the  whole  congregation  turned  as  one  man,  and  with 
necks  twisted  in  rapt  devotion,  set  their  gaze  upon  the 
gallery,  not  uttering  a  single  word  themselves — and 
worshiped  the  instruments  and  voices. 

After  service,  the  leader  of  the  choir  met  me  in  the 
study,  stating  that  he  wished  to  play,  at  a  funeral  I 
had  announced  for  four  o'clock,  a  superb  march  that 
had  created  a  sensation  in  the  West,  and  which  would 
be  introduced  on  the  following  Friday  night  at  the 
Motley  Opera  House.  He  said  he  was  especially 
anxious  to  do  this,  as  the  deceased  was  a  gentleman 
of  wealth  and  influence,  and  would  draw  a  crowded 


New  Responsibilities  329 

house.  I  informed  the  chorister  that  I  did  not  adver- 
tise theaters,  and  furthermore,  that  as  the  deceased 
had  failed  to  march  to  gospel  time  when  living,  I  didn't 
think  it  v^ould  improve  him  much  to  march  to  theater 
time  when  dead. 

The  hour  for  night  service  having  arrived,  the  choir 
repeated  the  gyrations  of  the  morning,  with  some  ad- 
ditions. They  applied  the  tuning  fork  with  greater 
precision,  made  more  faces,  squealed  louder,  stretched 
their  mouths  wider,  threw  their  heads  back  farther, 
rolled  the  whites  of  their  eyes  with  greater  art,  and, 
instead  of  a  selection  from  "Norma,"  introduced  the 
worship  by  rattling  off  a  jig  from — Norma 's  daugh- 
ter, I  presume. 

After  the  sermon  I  requested  the  choir  to  meet  me 
in  the  study. 

"My  musical  friends,''  said  I,  in  mellowed  accents, 
'*to  date  you  have  been  hired  to  do  just  what  you  have 
done  with  such  marvelous  fidelity.  I  wish  to  say  now, 
however,  that  as  pastor  of  Toplofty  Church,  and  di- 
rector of  its  prayer  meeting,  of  its  Sunday  school,  and 
of  its  choir,  I  propose  to  change  the  object  of  worship, 
substituting  God  instead  of  the  organ.  And  inasmuch 
as  Jehovah,  of  whom  perhaps  you  have  heard,  seeketh 
only  such  to  worship  him  as  worship  him  in  spirit  and 
in  truth,  we  shall  not  need  a  Sunday  concert  any  long- 
er. You  may,  therefore,  consider  yourselves  honor- 
ably discharged.    Good  night !" 

During  the  week  I  sought  to  inaugurate  several 
minor  reforms,  such  as  kindness  to  mules  and  protec- 
tion for  men  and  boys  in  street-cars  crowded  with 
women.     Amidst  lengthening  shadows,  as   I  home- 


330  Good  Gumption 

ward  turned  my  weary  steps  one  evening,  pondering 
what  reforms  I  next  should  attempt,  a  nondescript- 
looking  man  hailed  me,  and  introduced  himself  as  the 
special  reporter  of  the  "Goalong  Daily  Blowgun/' 

"I  wish  your  attention  a  moment,"  said  he. 

"Very  well;  make  known  your  errand." 

"It  is  our  custom  to  wait  upon  the  different  clergy- 
men to  ascertain  their  subjects  for  Sunday  announce- 
ment, and  we  should  be  pleased  to  have  yours." 

"Sir,"  said  I,  "I  fear  the  tendency  of  your  Sunday 
announcements  is  to  emphasize  curious  texts  and  pan- 
der to  the  lower  tastes  of  men.  If  a  minister  wants  to 
draw  a  crowd  by  displaying  his  wit  and  blasphemy,  he 
should  turn  clown  and  join  a  show." 

"There  is  justness  in  your  remarks,  sir,"  at  length 
he  said,  in  an  undertone,  "and  it  would  perhaps  be  well 
if  a  sentiment  could  be  aroused  on  the  subject.  Min- 
isters might  make  known  their  subjects  without  pan- 
dering to  the  vicious  clamor  for  sensationalism." 

"Very  true,"  said  I.  "Let  me  see  the  character  of 
the  themes  for  Sunday." 

He  handed  me  the  list.  The  following  was  the 
morning  bill  of  fare  proposed  by  the  most  ambitious 
candidates  for  popular  patronage:  "Silver  Harps," 
"The  Ship  of  Science  Capsized,"  "A  Celestial  Love- 
scrape,"  "A  Dialogue  between  Departed  Spirits,"  "A 
Ghost  at  Sea,"  "How  to  Vote,"  "A  Cherub's  Wing," 
"An  Angel's  Tale,"  "A  Leap  in  the  Dark." 

"These  are  excellent  themes,"  said  I,  "prayerfully 
chosen,  reverently  worded,  and  no  doubt  likely  to  do 
great  good  and  convert  many  sinners.  Please  put  me 
down  for  'The  Blind  Staggers.'  " 


New  Responsibilities  331 

For  evening  service  there  was:  "A  Carnival  of 
Worms  over  a  Dead  King,"  "A  Fleeing  Prophet  Bur- 
ied Alive,"  "An  Apostate  Suicide,"  "Dead  Flies," 
"Defunct  Frogs,"  "A  Frozen  Dog,"  "Drowned  Pigs," 
"A  Lifeless  Lion,"  "A  Dynamited  Dragon,"  "A  Per- 
ished Elephant,"  "A  Wayless  Whale." 

"This  is  a  graceful  climax,"  said  L  "From  a  worm 
to  a  whale — and  it  is  calculated  to  draw  the  floating 
populace  in  the  ratio  of  the  subjects  as  arranged.  It 
seems  that  all  the  night  themes  are  dignified  and  im- 
pressive— relating  in  some  way  to  death.  In  this  the 
clergymen  have  evinced  eminent  piety  and  wisdom; 
for  they  know  if  buzzards  are  to  be  attracted  to  the 
sanctuary,  the  pulpit  must  savor  of  carrion.  Mr.  Re- 
porter, you  may  chalk  me  down  thus :  'The  Funeral  of 
an  Ass  (Jeremiah  22:  19).  Relatives  and  friends  of 
the  deceased  invited.'  " 

The  reporter  bade  me  good-by,  and,  smiling,  said 
he'd  be  at  Toplofty  on  Sunday  or  "burst  a  boiler," 
whatever  that  meant.  And  on  Sunday  I  got  all  the 
fools  in  town — and  that  means  a  big  congregation. 

It  was  then  that  Sheepskin  College,  true  to  its  pro- 
pensities, nicknamed  me  "Doctor."  Henceforth, 
everytime  I  get  an  invitation  to  a  watermelon  festival, 
or  a  soup-bone  from  a  butcher,  my  name  is  written 
"the  Rev.  H.  Beans,  D.D.,"  or  "the  Rev.  Dr.  Beans." 
This  change  in  my  name  necessitated  a  number  of 
other  changes.  My  coat  ever  afterwards  was  made  in 
clerical  style,  two  inches  and  a  half  longer  in  the  tail 
than  common,  while  I  purchased  a  pair  of  eye-glasses 
to  give  me  the  true  divinity  stare. 


THE    AVERAGE     GIRL 


Chapter   XXVIII. 

As  pastor  of  a  large  and  influential  church,  my 
services  as  a  lecturer  frequently  were  called  into  req- 
uisition outside  the  boundaries  of  my  fold.  One  of 
my  lectures  made  a  great  sensation,  and  I  feel  that  this 
book  would  not  be  complete  without  it.  Therefore  it 
is  printed  herein.  It  was  called  'The  Average  Girl," 
and  was  delivered  at  the  commencement  of  a  very 
popular  and  widely-known  female  college  in  the  city 
of  Goalong,  a  college  that  to  you,  reader,  I  shall  call 
the  Institute  for  the  Prevention  of  Utility.  While  this 
was  not  its  name,  it  more  thoroughly  describes  it  than 
its  real  title.  The  young  ladies  who  listened  to  the 
lecture  were  unable  to  say  whether  I  was  giving  them 
some  good  advice  in  the  shape  of  a  humorous  address 
or  whether  I  was  trying  to  make  them  the  objects  of 
my  derision.  They  looked  at  it  from  difTerent  points 
of  view  and  formed  two  factions — Beans  and  anti- 
Beans.  To  one  side  I  was  a  great  teacher  striving  to 
make  my  teachings  interesting  through  the  medium 
of  fun,  while  to  the  other  I  simply  was  a  most  exe- 
crated individual  indeed.  I  leave  it  to  the  reader  to 
judge  of  the  situation  for  himself  or  herself. 

"Young  ladies,"  said  I,  when  I  addressed  them,  "the 
proper  study  of  mankind  is  woman ;  the  only  study  of 
(332) 


The  Average  Girl  333 

womankind  is  man.  I  think  it  was  the  grandfather 
of  Diogenes  who  made  the  sage  remark  that  girls  are 
a  necessary  evil,  but  if  Diogenes  didn't  have  a  grand- 
father, or  didn't  make  the  statement,  I  take  the  re- 
sponsibility upon  myself.  Of  course,  I  do  not  allude 
to  that  girlhood  which  blesses  the  world  with  sunny 
smiles,  which  stimulates  the  sterner  sex  to  industry 
and  valor  as  by  an  inspiration,  and  which  nobly  offers 
upon  the  home  altar  the  incense  of  a  pure  and  unselfish 
life.  No!  such  womanhood  is  a  necessary  benison. 
It  is  at  once  the  preserving  bond  of  society  and  the 
fairest  blossom  of  the  race.  It  is  of  a  very  different 
girl  that  I  speak — the  average  girl. 

"The  average  girl  spends  three  winters  at  a  board- 
ing-school, amusing  herself  an  hour  a  day  with 
French,  German,  and  Italian.  She  promptly  purchas- 
es the  catalogue  series  of  mathematical  books  to  adorn 
her  mantelpiece,  which,  with  vestal  fidelity,  she  guards 
against  the  profanation  of  a  touch.  She  scrupulously 
writes  her  name  in  a  'Three  Weeks'  Course  in  Philos- 
ophy,' or  chemistry,  geology,  botany,  physiology,  or 
astronomy,  and  masters  them  up  to  the  title-pages. 
She  buys  a  universal  history,  which  she  covers  in 
bright  calico,  with  exquisite  taste,  and  puts  in  the  bot- 
tom of  her  trunk.  She  takes  drawing  and  painting 
lessons  for  six  months,  and,  counting  the  time  spent  at 
home,  she  practices  on  her  piano  or  her  guitar  three 
times  a  week  for  ten  years.  Between  sunset  and  tea, 
she  sits  in  an  upstairs  window  with  her  chum  and  dis- 
courses of  balls  and  beaux.  Between  tea  and  ten 
o'clock  she  writes  fifteen  to  twenty  letters,  'real  nice 
letters.'  containing  one  idea  to  every  three  epistles. 


334  Good  Gumption 

"At  the  end  of  the  third  session  she  graduates  with 
honor  in  all  the  books  in  her  trunk,  and  on  Commence- 
ment Day  reaps  a  harvest  of  diplomas.  Clad  in  white, 
adorned  with  medals,  and  bordered  with  ribbons,  she 
reads  an  essay  on  'The  True  Woman,'  or  'The 
Advantage  of  an  Education.'  Notwithstanding  she 
knows  nothing  of  either,  or  of  anything  save  fool- 
ishness, she'll  win  a  creditable  amount  of  applause, 
and  captivate  the  heart  of  every  gosling  in  the  au- 
dience. Young  ladies,  you  will  please  pardon  me  if  I 
should  intimate  that  I  know  whereof  I  affirm,  and 
myself  have  felt  her  wondrous  charms. 

"After  she  lays  aside,  for  the  balance  of  her  earthly 
residence,  her  'arduous  studies,'  the  average  girl  re- 
turns home,  a  lady  of  leisure  and  accomplishments,  to 
enjoy  perpetual  vacation,  except  when  acting  as  gen- 
eral supervisor  of  her  parents.  If  the  market-man 
asks  her  to  ascertain  the  cost  of  three  dozen  eggs  at 
twelve  and  a  half  cents  per  dozen,  she  rushes  frantic- 
ally to  her  slate,  and,  having  covered  both  sides  with 
figures,  triumphantly  announces  that  if  she  had  not 
made  a  small  mistake  in  the  beginning  she  would  have 
gotten  it  exactly — but  she  reckons -he  had  better  wait 
till  papa  comes. 

"In  astronomy,  she  has  no  profound  knowledge  of 
any  of  the  heavenly  bodies  but  the  moon,  and  that  is 
because  there  is  a  man  in  it.  In  science,  she  does  not 
know  the  difference  between  an  atom  and  a  molecule, 
an  earthquake  and  a  hurricane,  an  isthmus  and  a 
strait.  While  unable  to  distinguish  a  rhinoceros  from 
a  crocodile,  she  can,  however,  expertly  discriminate 
between  a  peacock's  feather  and  an  ostrich  plume. 


The  Average  Girl  335 


tn 


'In  history,  she  has  heard  of  Columbus,  but  doesn't 
know  whether  he  was  a  Frenchman,  an  Itahan,  or  a 
Dutchman.  She  thinks  the  Thirty  Years'  War  lasted 
eighteen  months,  that  the  Sepoy  Mutiny  is  identical 
with  the  Mexican  War,  and  that  the  French  Revolu- 
tion took  place  in  Canada.  If  you  ask  her  when  the 
War  of  1812  occurred,  she  replies  that  she  is  'not 
good  on  dates ;'  if  you  ask  her  what  nations  fought  it, 
she  remarks  that  she  is  'not  good  on  names;'  if  you 
ask  her  where  the  war  was  waged,  she  claims  that  she 
'never  could  remember  places.'  She  believes  that  La- 
fayette was  a  Seminole  chief,  and  that  John  Adams 
was  the  father  of  the  express  business,  while  George 
III  was  vice-president  under  Washington's  admin- 
istration. 

"In  language,  she  can  say  with  superb  fluency  bon 
foil,  beaux,  soiree,  music  ale,  chapeaii,  and  a  la  mode, 
but  she  cannot  direct  a  wayfarer  to  the  next  cross- 
roads nor  write  a  receipt  in  any  language  under  the 
sun.  Turning  up  her  nose  at  grammar  and  rhetoric, 
she  can  give  expression,  with  perfect  ease  and  unim- 
peachable emphasis,  to  every  conception  of  her  brain 
or  emotion  of  her  heart  simply  by  using  the  list  of  in- 
terjections. She  can  creditably  perform  her  part  in 
conversation  for  two  hours  by  the  use  of  the  excla- 
mations, 'Ah!'  'Oh!'  'Indeed!'  'You  don't  say!'  'Impos- 
sible!' 'Why,  Mr.  Blank!'  'Now,  Mr.  Blank!'  'How 
cruel !'  'Too  absurd !'  'How  ridiculous !'  'Oh,  me !'  'You 
ought  to  be  ashamed!'  'Awful!'  'Horrors!'  'There 
now !'  'Ha,  ha,  ha !' 

"Having  studied  music  for  ten  years,  of  course  she 
has  piled  up  her  stand  with  a  multitude  of  choice 


336  Good  Gumption 

operas,  songs,  and  marches;  but  when  asked  to  play, 
she  is  always  out  of  practice ;  if  requested  to  sing,  she 
is  hoarse,  in  proof  whereof  she  clears  her  throat. 
After  she  has  been  begged,  implored,  and  besought 
for  an  hour  and  a  half,  however,  she  flies  savagely  to 
the  piano  and  drums  off  a  feeble  little  polka  that  would 
fail  to  arrest  the  attention  of  a  kitten.  She  plays  one 
air  and  puts  on  ten  thousand. 

"The  average  girl  conceals  the  handsomest  part  of 
her  face  with  hair,  leaving  a  small  aperture  for  her 
eyes,  bends  herself  double,  and  girds  herself  with  a 
bustle  to  show  that  one  may  be  an  ape  without  accept- 
ing the  theory  of  evolution.  (This  was  during  the 
days  when  the  horrible  contortion  known  as  'the  Gre- 
cian bend,'  and  the  barbarous  scheme  of  hair-dressing 
called  'bangs'  were  fashionable,  but  the  same  general 
truth  is  applicable  to-day,  for  there  are  feminine  fads 
now  quite  as  foolish  and  disfiguring.)  She  wears 
shoes  with  the  heels  in  the  middle  of  her  instep,  dons 
a  hat  surmounted  by  a  murdered  bird,  and  marches 
furiously  down  town  to  attend  the  milliner's.  She 
reads  novels  nearly  all  day,  which  she  says  are  'just 
splendid,'  eats  pickles  and  sweets  indiscriminately  in 
the  afternoon,  and  receives  beaux  in  the  evening.  She 
dances  till  daybreak  one  night  in  the  week,  wears 
dresses  too  brief  at  both  ends,  and  refuses  to  be 
civilized. 

"In  summer,  the  average  girl  joins  the  Idiot  Club, 
and  takes  a  train  for  a  summer  resort.  She  arrives 
at  the  station,  where  she  is  to  purchase  her  ticket,  with 
a  whoop,  a  shout,  and  a  scream  that  alarm  sober  peo- 
ple.    When   inquiry  is  instituted  as  to  this  uproar- 


22 


(337) 


338  Good  Gumption 

iousness  the  discovery  is  made  that  it  is  an  instance 
of  an  effect  without  a  cause.  With  a  couple  of  com- 
panions, she  rushes  upon  the  car  steps  before  the 
train  stops,  drops  her  gloves,  and  loses  her  hat.  Hav- 
ing recovered  the  articles,  she  sinks  upon  the  first  va- 
cant seat  she  sees,  in  a  laughing  swoon,  attracting  the 
unwilling  attention  and  disturbing  the  peace  of  every- 
body on  board.  Every  ten  minutes  she  raises  and 
lowers  a  window  or  two,  dashes  to  the  water-cooler 
occasionally,  and  now  and  then  changes  her  seat;  all 
of  which  evolutions  are  continued  amid  yells  and  fits 
of  laughter,  for  a  distance  of  a  hundred  or  two  hun- 
dred miles,  when,  exhausted  from  excess  of  joy,  she 
poises  her  head  gracefully  on  the  back  of  the  seat, 
arousing  herself  to  consciousness  only  as  she  beholds 
the  conductor  passing,  which  unfortunate  wretch  she 
never  fails  to  ply  with  a  string  of  interrogations.  Hav- 
ing arrived  at  her  destination,  she  laughs,  shrieks, 
dances,  and  flirts  for  three  delirious  weeks,  when  she 
returns  home  to  complain  of  the  monotony  of  life, 
which  she  thinks  is  'awful  dull.' 

"The  average  girl  finds  no  pleasure  in  home,  be- 
cause she  never  has  prepared  herself  for  the  practical 
duties  of  life.  Of  those  things  that  afford  abiding  joy, 
she  knows  nothing.  She  is  like  an  imprisoned  bird 
that  batters  its  wings  against  the  wires  that  confine  it. 
The  dignity  of  existence  she  never  has  considered, 
except  when  writing  an  essay ;  the  grandeur  of  a  use- 
ful life  she  never  has  stopped,  in  the  whirl  of  dissipa- 
tion, to  ponder.  She  cannot  scramble  eggs,  stuff  a 
chicken  (except  subjectively),  boil  a  dumpling,  fry 
a  potato,  or  salt  the  dough  for  an  ashcake.    She  cannot 


The  Average  Girl  339 

make  a  fire,  hem  a  handkerchief,  sweep  a  door-mat, 
dust  a  wall-pocket,  or  rinse  a  dish-rag.  She  ekes  out 
a  semi-sentimental,  semi-hysterical,  wholly  useless 
life,  unfit  for  the  duties  of  earth,  and  unprepared  for 
the  blissful  activities  of  heaven. 

"The  average  girl,  of  course,  joins  the  church.  This 
she  does  because  it  is  altogether  respectable,  approved 
by  the  highest  circles  of  fashion,  and  opens  a  door  to 
the  privileges  of  church  fairs  and  festivals.  Besides, 
it  gives  her  an  opportunity  to  display  from  Sunday  to 
Sunday  her  last  dress,  or  hat,  to  show  her  gilt-edged 
hymnbook,  and  to  see  those  of  others  of  her  set.  She 
never  has  halted  long  enough  in  the  thoughtless  race 
she  makes  of  life  to  learn  what  Christianity  requires, 
or  what  the  church  is  for.  She  bows  punctiliously 
during  public  prayer — and  arranges  her  hat.  She  ac- 
complishes what  the  wisest  men  pronounce  impossible 
— does  two  things  at  a  time — when  she  sings  alto  to 
the  Lord  and  snickers  at  the  girl  in  front  of  her.  She 
reads  q  short  Psalm  at  night,  if  she  has  attended  a 
funeral  during  the  day. 

'Tt  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  the  average  girl  gets 
married — certainly  she  does.  And  worse  luck  it  is 
that  often  she  weds  before  her  better  sister — the  ex- 
traordinary girl — gets  a  husband.  She  opines  that 
unmingled  joy  awaits  her,  and  that  hymeneal  felicity 
will  last  forever ;  two  years  later  she  leaves  off  the  'o' 
and  simply  pines.  At  about  thirty  years  of  age,  she 
begins  to  see  through  a  glass  darkly,  and  to  realize  the 
existence  of  a  sure-enough,  tangible,  practical  world. 
When  forty,  she  sees  men  as  trees  walking,  and  has  the 
exalted  honor  of  supporting  a  husband — a  real,  live 


340  Good  Gumption 

husband.  Like  a  true  wife,  she  takes  excellent  care 
of  her  consort,  paying  his  champagne  bills,  and  de- 
fraying his  expenses  to  the  circus.  While  he  is  at  the 
club  of  nights,  she  knits  him  comfortable  socks;  and 
while  he  sits  on  a  box  in  front  of  a  drug-store  in  the 
day,  she  gives  music  lessons,  or  runs  a  millinery. 
When  about  fifty,  she  is  put  in  a  section  of  the  grave- 
yard, tired  of  the  world,  tired  of  life,  and  tired  of  her 
husband. 

"Permit  me  to  say  in  conclusion,  young  ladies  of  the 
Institute,  that  I  trust  you  are  in  advance  of  the  aver- 
age girl,  who  never  can  be  esteemed  a  success;  and 
that,  with  Cupid's  golden  arrow,  you  will  slay  every 
one  your  man,  live  in  a  palace,  and  devote  your  ener- 
gies to  the  amelioration  of  the  miseries  of  the  human 
kind." 

As  I  closed  my  lecture,  the  girls  rose,  and  tossing 
their  indignant  heads,  sang: 

"We  bonnie  maids  say, 
As  at  vespers  we  pray, 

We'll  do  the  best  we  can; 
Give  patience  to  wait, 
Till  some  subsequent  date, 
World  without  men.    A  man !" 

I  need  only  say  that,  since  the  delivery  of  the  fore- 
going oration,  my  services  have  not  been  demanded 
by  any  more  female  colleges,  and  that  my  funny 
speeches  are  now  solicited  chiefly  for  temperance 
lodges  and  Christmas  trees. 

But,  dear  reader,  I  ask  you :  was  I  not  right  in  my 
talk  to  the  young  ladies  of  the  Institute  for  the  Pre- 
vention of  Utility?     Is  not  the  average  girl  just  ex- 


The  Average  Girl  341 

actly  what  I  painted  her?  Do  you  think  if  a  man 
came  along  with  a  kodak  and  snapshotted  this  esti- 
mable female,  inwardly  as  well  as  outwardly,  he  would 
be  able  to  give  the  world  any  better  photograph  of  her 
than  I  did?  Isn't  she  a  useless,  purposeless,  aimless, 
hysterical,  and  altogether  foolish  sort  of  a  person? 

Of  course,  dear  reader,  if  you  are  a  girl  I  don't  class 
you  with  her.  I  give  you  a  chance  for  a  little  self- 
examination.  If  you  happen  to  look  anything  like  the 
young  lady  I  described  in  my  lecture,  swear  ofif  at 
once  and  devote  your  life  to  being  the  un-average 
girl,  which  means  that  a  share  of  that  devotion  should 
go  toward  making  some  fellow's  life  and  home  happy 
and  contentful,  instead  of  wretched  and  miserable. 


A     SATURDAY'S    DIARY 


Chapter  XXIX. 


Few  people  have  any  adequate  idea  of  the  constant 
and  varied  demands  made  upon  a  minister's  time,  sal- 
ary, patience,  heart,  and  brain.  He  spends  a  large 
part  of  each  day  trying  to  do  a  whole  host  of  things 
required  of  him.  The  following  is  a  sample  diary  for 
Saturday,  the  one  day  in  the  week  perhaps  that  a  pas- 
tor would  like  to  spend  in  rest,  quiet,  and  meditation 
for  the  morrow: 

Six  o'clock  A.M. — Awaked  by  a  tremendous  thump- 
ing, at  the  front  door.  The  servant  brings  me  word 
that  a  lightningrod  man  wants  to  see  me  immediately. 
I  make  answer  that  I  have  just  returned  from  a  long 
journey,  and  am  tired,  sick,  and  sleepy,  and  ask  to  be 
excused.  Agent  sends  reply  that  the  church  is  in  im- 
minent danger,  and  should  have  a  rod  on  it  before 
breakfast.  Seven  churches  and  thirteen  temperance 
lodges  have  been  struck,  he  says,  throughout  the  world 
during  the  last  twenty-four  hours.  Says  he  is  a  dis- 
interested party,  but  a  wellwisher  to  the  cause. 
Doesn't  like  to  see  churches  destroyed  when  they  can 
be  so  easily  saved.  Says  he's  going  to  come  to  hear 
me  preach  to-morrow.  Sends  a  notice  for  me  to  read 
from  the  pulpit,  and  wants  me  to  indorse  it  in  a  speech. 
(342) 


A  Saturday's  Diary  343 

Says  his  mother  is  a  member  of  my  denomination.  De- 
clares that  Hghtning  will  not  strike  within  two  miles 
of  one  of  his  rods.  I  reply  that  I  want  him  to  fit  up  a 
rod  for  each  of  my  legs,  as  I  am  constantly  exposed  to 
storms;  and  that,  in  view  of  his  religious  tendencies, 
I  charge  only  $5  for  reading  the  notice,  and  $10  for 
the  speech,  in  advance.    Doesn't  accept  my  offer. 

(5;j5  A.M. — A  tramp  rouses  me  up  at  the  back  win- 
dow for  the  purpose  of  borrowing  forty-five  cents  to 
pay  his  fare  to  the  next  town.  I  lean  out  of  bed,  peep 
through  the  blinds,  and  tell  him  that  it  would  pain  me 
to  see  such  a  man  leave  the  city,  and  that  I  could  not 
be  instrumental  in  depriving  the  community  of  a  citi- 
zen like  him.  But  if  he  will  accept  the  appointment, 
he  may  consider  himself  royal  sawyer  to  the  par- 
sonage, and  by  dressing  a  half  cord  of  wood,  become 
heir  to  a  salary  of  forty-five  cents.  He  declines  the 
ofifice. 

/.•75  A.M. — Had  just  fallen  asleep.  Mrs.  Dreamly 
awakes  me  by  sending  up  a  poem  entitled  the  "Silver 
Moon,"  on  which  she  says  she  has  been  engaged  for 
two  years.  Wants  to  publish  it  in  a  magazine,  and 
desires  to  know  what  it  is  worth.  I  advise  her  not  to 
publish  at  less  than  a  thousand  dollars  a  line,  and  if 
she  can't  get  that  to  hold  it.  We  don't  see  such  poetry 
every  day.  Better  not  dispose  of  the  poem  at  any 
price ;  hand  it  down  to  posterity  to  show  what  a  wom- 
an can  do  when  she  quits  making  biscuits. 

8  A.M. — Get  up  and  look  in  the  glass;  don't  look 
well — I  mean  the  glass.  Go  to  breakfast,  find  the 
servant  has  left,  and  Polytechnic  doing  the  cooking. 
Find  she  also  must  make  fires,  go  to  market,  sweep  up 


344  Good  Gumption 

generally,  set  the  table,  wash  the  dishes,  and  bring  in 
wood  for  the  kitchen.  I  know  she's  the  best  wife  in 
the  world.  Won't  let  me  help  her — says  D.D.  and 
drudgery  don't  go  together.    Sump'n  in  that. 

p  A  .M. — Just  entering  my  study.  A  youth,  who  had 
been  dismissed  from  his  Sunday  school  class  for  hab- 
itual neglect  of  his  lesson,  comes  up  behind  me  sud- 
denly, gasping  in  great  excitement,  "Doctor,  I  am 
appointed  to  lead  the  young  people's  meeting  to-mor- 
row evening,  and  I  want  to  talk  on  the  subject,  'Who 
W^as  Cain's  Wife?'  Can  you  give  me  any  light  on  it?" 
"Oh,  yes;  you  might  venture  to  say  that  Cain  was  her 
husband,  and  also  that  she  was  the  conjoint  daughter 
of  her  father  and  mother  on  both  sides.  You  might 
add,  without  fear  of  successful  contradiction,  the  his- 
toric statement  that  she  dwelt  in  the  land  of  Nod." 
He  departs  happy. 

p:ij  A.M. — Go  to  work,  realizing  I  have  to  prepare 
two  sermons  for  Sunday,  and  have  not  a  text  for 
either.  Scratch  my  head  and  try  to  think  of  some- 
thing to  preach  about. 

g:^o  A.M. — Just  about  to  settle  down  upon  a  text, 
when  my  entire  train  of  thought  is  ditched  by  a  de- 
crepit old  bachelor  who  wants  to  marry  a  widow,  and 
asks  me  to  help  him.  I  tell  him  that  I  never  married 
a  widow,  and  don't  understand  the  business. 

10  A.M. — A  gaily-decorated  young  woman  an- 
nounces herself  as  on  "a  vital  mission."  Unrolls  a 
bundle  of  recipes,  that  apparently  have  been  handled 
a  decade  or  two.  Gotten  up  for  ministers — add  fif- 
teen years  to  their  lives — copied  in  her  own  hand — 
price  only  twenty-five  cents  each.     Hands  me  one  for 


A  Saturday's  Diary  345 

dyspepsia  which  has  cured  a  thousand  ministers.  I 
assure  her  that  I  have  not  a  symptom  of  dyspepsia, 
and  can  digest  grindstones  fried  in  rubber.  Then, 
wouldn't  I  Hke  a  remedy  for  minister's  sore  throat? 
I  ask  if  she  knew  what  caused  this  disease.  Says  she 
supposes  it  is  brought  on  by  excessive  talking".  Then 
won't  she  excuse  me  now  before  I  contract  the  malady  ? 
Doesn't  take  the  hint.  Thrusts  at  me  successively  rec- 
ipes for  nervous  prostration,  insomnia,  antifat,  hy- 
drophobia, and  finally  with  some  caution,  a  remedy 
for  melancholia  and  insanity.  Perhaps  I  do  need 
something  along  that  line.  I  roll  my  eyes,  toss  my 
arms  aimlessly,  throw  my  head  back  and  laugh,  kick 
over  the  rocking  chair,  jump  upon  the  table,  repeat 
with  wild  gesticulations  "The  Maniac"  scream  'T  am 
not  mad,  I  am  not  mad!"    Thinks  I  am,  and  flees. 

10:4^  A.M. — Forgot  what  text  I  had  selected — 
start  afresh.  The  morning  is  passing  rapidly.  I  am 
getting  nervous.  Think  I'll  have  to  preach  about  rec- 
ognition in  heaven.  That's  easy.  No,  I  preached 
about  that  the  last  time  I  got  in  a  pinch.     All  is  dark. 

11:15  ^.M. — Several  quick  raps  upon  my  study 
door.  "Come  in!"  A  slim  man  with  a  faint  mous- 
tache enters.  "I  am  horrified,  sir,"  say  I,  "that  you 
should  thus  rudely  break  in  upon  my  meditations.  But 
I  grant  you  five  minutes  in  which  to  state  your  case." 
Says  he  is  a  singing-master  and  wants  me  to  get  him  a 
class.  Says  he  is  the  best  singer  in  the  United  States, 
and  can  teach  a  duck  to  make  excellent  music  in  three 
weeks.  Jerks  a  book  from  his  satchel,  seizes  me  by 
the  neck  unawares,  and  has  a  tuning-fork  buzzing  in 
my  ear  before  T  can  speak.    The  idea  of  teaching  me 


346  Good  Gumption 

to  sing!  I  never  turned  a  tune  in  my  life.  I  finally 
tell  the  slim  man,  whose  squeaking  voice  reminds  me 
of  a  creaking  door,  that  he'd  make  an  excellent  pre- 
centor for  a  class  of  mosquitoes. 

12  M. — No  text  yet,  and  my  brain  is  throbbing.  No 
preaching  to-morrow  at  two  large  churches.  A  crowd 
of  strangers  will  fill  up  my  pews  and  expect  big  things. 
Wonder  where  they  will  get  'em.  It's  court  week, 
too,  and  the  judge  and  lawyers  will  be  out,  perhaps. 
I  think  I  can  give  some  good  instruction  to  lawyers 
without  much  reflection.  Yes,  I've  got  one  of  my  ser- 
mons now.  The  text  is  Hebrews  xiii.  14 — "Here  have 
we  no  continuing  city."  It  will  be  considered  under 
two  heads — viz.:  i.  Lying;  2.  Honesty.  The  first  di- 
vision is  for  the  lawyers ;  the  second,  for  their  clients. 
This  classification  eml^races  nearly  all  the  citizens  of 
the  United  States.  I  may  have  to  do  some  tall  twisting 
to  make  the  divisions  fit  the  text — but  I  can  do  it. 

I2:j0  P.M. — Exhausted  by  the  exercises  of  the 
morning,  I  lay  me  down  to  get  a  nap,  that  I  may  re- 
cruit my  energies  preparatory  to  another  tussle  with 
a  text  later  in  the  afternoon.  Fall  asleep — am  rudely 
roused  by  an  awkward  elephant  of  a  boy  rushing  into 
my  room  and  throwing  his  arms  around  me,  exclaim- 
ing, "I'm  so  glad  to  see  you,  Uncle  Red!"  "Who  are 
you,  sir?"  asked  I,  "that  you  dare  thus  impertinently 
plunge  into  my  private  apartment  and  rob  me  of  the 
small  modicum  of  rest  I  seek  to  obtain  from  the  moles- 
tation of  strangers  ?  ^^1lo  are  you,  sir  ?"  "Why,  Un- 
cle Red,  I  thought  you  knew  me,"  he  returns,  "I'm 
your  wife's  cousin's  sister's  uncle's  nephew's  brother's 
niece's  son  by  step-marriage.    Come  to  spend  a  week 


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348  Good  Gumption 

with  my  relatives."  "Sir,"  say  I,  rubbing  my  half- 
closed  eyes,  "you  will  find  that  the  Sawdust  Hotel  has 
been  built  for  just  the  class  of  relatives  to  which  you 
belong".  Good  day,  sir!"  The  visitor  of  distant  kin 
retired. 

/  P.M. — Dinner  time.  More  time  than  dinner.  No 
servant  yet.  A  large  family  of  country  members,  who 
have  come  to  town  to  trade,  have  just  stopped  in,  with- 
out giving  warning,  to  dine  with  us.  Polytechnic  is 
ready  to  cry.  Our  guests  devour  like  a  swarm  of  lo- 
custs everything  before  them.  Had  my  eye  on  one  lit- 
tle ear  of  corn  I  had  hoped  to  fall  heir  to — but  alas !  it's 
gone.  A  wild-looking  boy  grabbed  it.  I'm  awfully 
hungry.  Go  to  the  hen's  nest  for  an  tgg.  The  old 
speckle  is  on.  I  wait  for  her  to  lay.  Doesn't  lay ;  I  be- 
lieve she's  sitting!  If  she  is,  I'll  starve.  Wait  another 
half  hour — no  egg.  I  go  to  the  garden,  pluck  a  squash, 
peel  it,  put  a  little  salt  and  pepper  on  it,  and  eat  it  raw — 
think  that  sometime  in  the  past  I  have  had  a  better  din- 
ner. I  go  next  to  a  tree  and  get  a  green  persimmon.  I 
eat  the  persimmon  to  draw  up  my  stomach  to  fit  my 
meal.  Economical  arrangement.  Every  preacher 
should  have  a  persimmon  tree. 

2:^0  P.M. — Wish  I  didn't  have  to  preach  to-mor- 
row night.  The  country  meml^ers  have  just  left.  T 
shut  myself  up  in  my  study  to  get  a.  skeleton  for  my 
other  sermon.  Let's  see!  I  think  I'll  preach  on  "The 
Brevity  of  Time."  No;  I  made  a  prayer-meeting  talk 
on  that  last  Thursday  evening.  I  hear  a  knock  at  the 
door.  I  must  be  a  mighty  good  man  not  to  get  mad  at 
such  repeated  interruptions.  But  T  do  get  mad — 
that's  the  trouble.    Miss  Celestia  Stump  enters,  weep- 


A  Saturday's  Diary  349 

ing.  I  always  sympathize  with  the  afflicted.  "Be  re- 
signed, Miss  Stump,  afflictions  await  us  all,  and  time 
at  length  will  soothe  the  deepest  grief."  *'No!  never! 
Dr.  Beans,"  says  the  sobbing  maid,  pressing  her  hand- 
kerchief to  her  eyes.  "My  grief  is  inconsolable." 
"When  did  your  father  leave  for  the  better  land?  I 
heard  he  was  sick."  "Oh !  it's  not  pa.  Doctor,"  replies 
Miss  Celestia,  indulging  in  increased  lamentations. 
"It's  dear,  sweet,  precious,  lovely,  darling  little  Snow- 
drop, my  pet  poodle,  you  know;  and  I  have  come  to 
ask  you  to  write  a  suitable  obituary  in  verse  to  be  read 
at  the  funeral  this  evening  at  six  o'clock.  Pa  says  he 
knows  you  will  be  glad  to  do  it,  for  you  thought  so 
much  of  sainted  Snowdrop — precious  thing."  "Miss 
Stump,"  say  I,  hoarsely,  recovering  from  a  variety  of 
emotions,  "please  say  to  your  sagacious  parent,  that 
the  obituary  will  cost  twenty-five  cents  a  verse  retail ; 
or  if  he  wants  it  by  the  wholesale,  I'll  furnish  a  couple 
of  miles  for  fifteen  dollars,  in  advance."  I  think  they 
will  bury  the  pup  without  obital  notice. 

?.'75  P.M. — Again  I  try  to  collect  my  thoughts  and 
settle  upon  a  text.  I  place  my  hand  on  my  aching 
brow,  and  think  as  concentratedly  as  I  can.  A  sewing- 
machine  agent  enters  without  knocking.  Puts  a  ma- 
chine down,  and  says  it  will  run  forever,  and  make  less 
noise  the  longer  it  is  run ;  says  it  will  sew  any  sort  of 
material  in  the  world,  and  starts  it  to  rattling  furious- 
ly. "Please  go  down,"  say  I,  "into  the  kitchen,  and 
sew  together  my  waffle-Irons  that  got  broken  last 
week."    Sees  that  I  mean  business  and  leaves. 

4.  P.M. — My  head  aches  severely.  Don't  think  my 
squash-persimmon  dinner  agreed  with  me.     Unless  I 


350  Good  Gumption 

can  be  perfectly  quiet  the  rest  of  the  evening,  I  can- 
not prepare  a  sermon.  Let's  see!  I  want  something 
practical  for  my  people — something  that  will  make 
saints  rejoice  and  sinners  tremble.  I  think  I'll  try 
that  passage  in  Paul's  letter  to  Timothy  where  he  says 
— Bothers!  (I  don't  mean  Paul  said  that,  but  my- 
self— )  I  hear  a  frantic  rapping  at  my  door  again! 
Miss  Masculina  Mugg  introduces  herself.  Asks  if  I 
am  not  a  friend  of  her  suffering  and  downtrodden  sex, 
and  if  I  don't  want  to  immortalize  myself  by  espousing 
a  noble  cause  and  breaking  the  debasing  chains  that 
are  rusting  on  woman's  snowy  wrists. 

I  tell  her  that,  after  my  own,  there  is  no  sex  under 
the  starry  canopy  of  the  azure  heavens,  north,  east, 
south,  or  west,  in  air,  earth,  or  water,  that  I  esteem 
more  than  her  own;  but  that  I  do  not  care  just  now  to 
espouse  the  sex,  as  I  already  have  espoused  the  best 
specimen  belonging  to  it.  Yet  if  I  should  lose  her,  I 
suppose  I  would  espouse  again,  and  her  application 
would  be  considered.  She  pretends  not  to  understand 
me,  and  asks  if  she  can  have  the  use  of  my  church 
Sunday  evening,  to  deliver  a  lecture  on  "Woman's 
Rights."  I  tell  her  I  think  women  have  all  of  their 
own  rights  and  half  of  the  men's,  and  that  she  would 
do  well  to  reflect  prayerfully  on  Paul's  advice  to  wom- 
en— "I  will  therefore  that  the  younger  women  marry, 
bear  children,  guide  the  house,  give  none  occasion  to 
the  adversary  to  speak  reproachfully.  For  some  are 
already  turned  aside  after  Satan."  She  goes  off  speak- 
ing parables.  Think  she'll  take  the  apostle's  advice  if 
she  gets  an  offer. 

4:^0  P.M. — A  lady  sends  for  me  on  important  busi- 


A  Saturday's  Diary  351 

ness.  Wants  me  to  coax  Johnnie  to  let  the  doctor  pull 
an  aching  tooth.  I  go — and  pull  the  tooth  myself.  John 
yells  a  symphony  in  B  minor,  while  I  laugh.  Feel  a 
little  better  for  a  while. 

6  P.M. — I  again  enter  my  study,  tired  and  nervous, 
I  lock  the  door  to  secure  privacy.  I  scarcely  turn  the 
key  before  I  hear  a  fist  thundering  at  the  door.  I  make 
no  reply.  Polytechnic  comes  out  and  says  I'm  busy 
and  can't  see  company.  Says  he  has  business  with  me 
that  I  can't  aflford  to  neglect.  She  turns  the  knob, 
but  can't  get  in.  The  man  tells  her  he  reckons  I'm 
preparing  to  commit  suicide;  he  heard  of  just  such  a 
case  day  before  yesterday.  My  spouse  grows  anx- 
ious. The  man  gets  an  ax  from  the  back  yard  and  is 
about  to  batter  the  door  down.  I  let  him  in.  Before 
I  have  time  to  deliver  the  complimentary  remarks  I 
had  prepared,  he  holds  an  opened  prospectus  within 
two  inches  of  my  nose,  narrating  fluently  the  wonders 
of  a  book  entitled  "An  Encyclopedia  of  Remarkable 
Mysteries."    Price,  in  library  style,  $6.50. 

While  he  is  displaying  the  merits  of  his  book,  an- 
other agent  drops  in  and  calls  me  into  the  passage. 
Says  he  wants  to  see  me  privately.  Tells  me  the  first 
agent  is  a  fraud;  that  his  book  is  nothing  but  a  hash 
made  up  of  other  works,  hastily  gotten  together,  and 
full  of  inaccuracies.  The  publishers  tried  three  weeks 
to  get  him  to  take  hold  of  it,  but  he  was  too  honest  a" 
man  to  palm  off  such  a  swindle  on  the  unsuspecting 
public.  When  he  sells  a  man  anything  he  wants  him 
to  get  the  worth  of  his  money.  Says  he:  "Moved  by 
such  considerations,  I  have  been  induced  to  handle  a 
work  called  'The  Universal  Booktionary  of  Storms.' 


352  Good  Gumption 

It  ought  to  be  in  the  hands  of  every  gentleman — sells 
at  sight."  "'Won't  sell  me,"  I  opine,  and  say  so  flat- 
footedly. 

Just  here  enters  a  third  agent,  who  steps  up  to  me 
cautiously,  and  throwing  his  arm  affectionately  around 
my  neck,  confidingly  whispers  to  me  that  I  had  better 
be  on  the  lookout,  since  these  two  rascals  are  in  league, 
one  trying  to  sell  where  the  other  fails.  Says  he  had 
been  following  them  up  for  three  months  at  his  own 
expense,  and  thoroughly  understands  their  game. 
Says  he  is  an  honest  man  himself,  and  delights  to  ex- 
pose humbuggery,  just  from  principle.  He  can't  bear 
to  see  people  imposed  upon,  especially  ministers  of  the 
gospel.  He  knows  they  have  a  hard  time  and  are 
doing  a  blessed  work.  He  was  impressed  himself 
with  a  call  to  preach  w^ien  he  was  a  lad.  While  his 
object  is  to  expose  fraud  and  protect  the  people,  he 
carries  along  the  most  magnificent  book  of  the  age, 
"The  Diseases  of  Dogs,"  (I  asked  him  if  he  has  had 
the  disease)  which  is  particularly  suited  to  the  needs 
of  pastors,  for  whose  benefit  he  has  consented  to  sell 
it.  Doesn't  care  to  make  anything  on  it — his  reward 
is  a  good  conscience.  Says  it  is  an  illustrated  book, 
and  sells  readily  for  $io;  but  as  his  aim  is  not  to  make 
money,  but  to  do  good,  he  will  partly  give  it  to  me  and 
charge  only  $7.25,  to  cover  cost.  Says  he  will  be  at 
"church  to-morrow  morning  during  Sunday  school, 
and  will  make  a  talk  if  I  wanted  him  to.  My  supper- 
bell  is  ringing.  I  ask  my  visitors  to  adjourn  and  take 
chairs  on  the  porch  until  I  issue  my  work  on  "Cheek." 

7  P.M. — Supper.  Salt,  pepper,  crackers,  and  wa- 
ter.   I  eat  heartily.    No  servant  yet. 


A  Saturday's  Diary  353 

8  P.M. — Retire  again  to  my  study  to  make  a  last 
effort  for  a  text.  In  desperation  I  clasp  my  hands  be- 
hind my  back,  bend  my  body  forward,  walk  the  floor, 
and  sigh.  I  have  genuine  sympathy  for  myself.  I 
fancy  an  enormous  congregation  waiting  to  hear  the 
message  of  life — but  alas!  I  have  no  message,  and  I 
picture  myself  rising  before  said  congregation  with- 
out even  a  text.  Well,  maybe  I  can  get  a  sermon  be- 
fore bed-time.  Let's  see!  The  mark  that  was  put 
upon  Cain — how'll  that  do? —  Thump,  thump  at  my 
door.  A  patent-medicine  man  comes  in  and  spreads 
small  boxes  on  mantelpiece,  table,  bookcase,  chairs, 
and  floor. 

"These  are  Electric  Pills,"  chants  the  man.  "They 
are  made  wholly  of  vegetable  matter,  found  only  on  a 
small  uninhabited  island  in  the  open  Polar  Sea.  I 
was  wrecked  some  years  ago,  and  was  borne  by  an 
iceberg,  upon  which  I  managed  to  climb,  to  this  fa- 
vored isle,  where,  almost  famished,  I  chanced  to  find 
this  life-giving  herb,  of  which  I  chewed  a  couple  of 
leaves,  and  gained  six  pounds  in  two  minutes.  I  soon 
gained  such  wonderful  strength,  that,  having  filled 
my  pockets  with  this  powerful  curative,  I  was  enabled 
to  swim  to  one  of  our  northern  ports.  I  now  place 
within  the  reach  of  all  a  certain,  speedy,  and  perma- 
nent cure.  It  regulates  the  liver,  purifies  the  blood, 
invigorates  the  kidneys  to  healthy  action,  and  tones 
up  the  system  generally.  It  is  good  for  sprains,  burns, 
blisters,  styes,  neuralgia,  insomnia,  pain  in  the  back, 
chills  and  fevers,  corns,  loss  of  life — er — ahem — sight, 
hearing,  or  speech,  low  spirits,  baldness,  warts,  itch, 
and  all  diseases  of  the  skin,  blood,  bones,  and  flesh. 
25 


354  Good  Gumption 

The  pills  are  entirely  harmless,  sir,  purely  vegetable, 
and  can  be  taken  in  any  quantity  without  danger. 
Will  you  have  a  box,  sir?  Only  twenty-five  cents. 
Splendid  for  clergymen !" 

"Have  a  box  of  such  pills?"  gasp  I.  "Don't  speak 
so  modestly,  sir;  please  leave  me  at  least  a  carload." 
As  I  gaze  through  the  window,  I  see  the  dispenser  of 
pills  plodding  his  way  through  the  deepening  shadows 
to  the  Sawdust  Hotel. 

8:4=)  P.M. — Surely  I'll  be  quiet  now  for  an  hour  or 
two.  No  one  w^ill  dare  to  molest  me  at  this  hour  of 
the  night.  What!  Another  knock  at  my  door? 
"Who's  there?"  ask  I,  menacingly.  No  response;  but 
another  rap.  "Who's  there?"  repeat  I.  A  voice  re- 
plies, "An  agent  of  the  Ne  Plus  Ultra  Organ  Com- 
pany— best  organ  in  the  world.  Want  to  show  you 
illustrated  catalogue — extra  terms  to  ministers — dou- 
ble veneered  case,  three  hundred  and  forty-nine  stops." 
"Two  stops  are  all  I  w'ant  to-night ;  please  stop  knock- 
ing, and  go  around  the  corner  to  the  Sawdust  Hotel 
and  stop  as  much  as  you  please." 

8:^0  P.M. — A  bloated  toper,  whose  wdfe  has  left 
him,  comes  to  see  if  I  will  not  try  to  induce  her  to  re- 
turn. Asks  what  I  would  do  if  "er  great  big  \voman, 
mad  as  er  hornet,  with  flowin'  red  hair,  her  eyes  flash- 
in'  fire,  an'  er  ax  handle  in  her  hand,  wus  er  comin' 
right  at  you."  I  reply  that  I'd  run.  The  toper  has 
suggested  a  sermon  and  after  thanking  him  for  his 
courtesy  in  coming,  I  promise  to  help  adjust  matters 
with  his  spouse.  I'll  talk  to-morrow  evening  on  "Col- 
lisions"— not  family,  but  railroad  disasters.  A  num- 
ber of  my  young  men   are  going  on   an  excursion 


A  Saturday's  Diary  355 

Monday,  and  a  little  counsel  will  be  timely.     I  sit  down 
to  write  my  sermon,  part  of  which  T  quote: 

Among  the  improvements  of  modern  times,  railroad  col- 
lisions enjoy  a  conspicuous  place.  All  civilized  nations  have 
them  now.  They  mark  the  boundary  line  between  progress 
and  stagnation.  Nothing  stagnates  where  there  is  a  collision. 
These  splendid  triumphs  of  mo'dern  enlightenment  take  place 
not  only  on  a  more  magnificent  scale  than  ever  before,  but 
they  have  greatly  increased  in  popularity  and  usefulness.  In 
former  years  very  few  people  took  part  in  them,  but  now- 
adays almost  everybody  is  directly  or  indirectly  interested  in 
them.  Some  persons  even  go  so  far  as  to  lavish  considerable 
affection  on  thein,  reading  the  newspapers  containing  accounts 
of  them  with  more  assiduity  and  attention  than  the  Bible. 

While  collisions  have  been  of  no  special  benefit  to  the  par- 
ticipants, they  nevertheless  have  proved  of  great  advantage  to  a 
large  number  of  other  people.  For  instance,  I  knew  a  woman 
once,  who  lost  a  drunken  husband  by  a  collision,  and  she  has 
been  happy  ever  since.  They  have  also  thinned  out  dudes  and 
put  a  timely  end  to  a  number  of  male  women,  thereby  doing 
a  very  large  amount  of  good. 

It  may  be  well  just  here  to  venture  a  bit  of  advice  to  persons 
who  think  of  investing  in  this  interesting  class  of  accidents. 
So  I  begin  by  saying  that  collisions,  like  marriage,  should  not 
be  lightly  entered  into,  and,  at  first,  one  should  invest  cautious- 
ly. If  you  find  that  a  collision  is  inevitable,  choose  daylight 
for  it,  since  well-authenticated  data,  drawn  from  the  records 
of  undertakers,  go  to  show  that  night  seriously  diminishes  the 
attractions  and  the  enjoyment.  Unless  the  circumstances  are 
peculiar,  don't  have  more  than  one  at  a  time.  Two  or  more 
collisions  at  once  are,  in  the  main,  unsatisfactory,  and  but  few 
people  can  enjoy  them.  If  you  decide  upon  a  collision  before 
starting,  don't  start.  But,  should  you  determine  upon  a  haz- 
ard, be  sure  to  take  out  an  accident  insurance  policy  to  the 
amount  of  two  dollars  and  a  half — a  great  deal  more  than  the 
average  man  is  worth. 


356  Good  Gumption 

As  a  rule,  I  would  not  get  married  in  a  collision,  nor  is  it 
a  good  time  to  have  a  tooth  pulled.  I  would  not  eat  fried 
hog  in  such  a  crisis  for  if  the  collision  doesn't  kill  you,  the' 
hog  will.  If  you  have  a  waxed  mustache,  and  a  pewter  tooth- 
pick, don't  fail  to  save  the  pick,  even  if  you  have  to  go  under 
yourself.     Always  save  the  best. 

If  you  should  chance  to  be  thrown  down  a  precipice,  be  sure 
to  hold  your  breath.  I  have  never  heard  of  a  man's  dying  so 
long  as  he  held  his  breath.  If  anybody  else  is  with  you,  it  is 
more  comfortable  to  fall  on  top  of  the  other  fellow.  As  a 
general  thing,  it  is  better  for  him  to  get  damaged  than  your- 
self. Unless  there  are  some  ameliorating  circumstances,  it 
is  commonly^ prudent  not  to  alight  on  your  head.  By  violating 
this  rule  some  have  come  to  a  premature  demise.  If  necessary, 
fall  on  your  back,  so  as  not  to  be  sick  at  your  stomach. 

Don't  die  in  the  descent,  as  your  life  might  be  thus  shortened, 
and  the  prospect  of  recovery  would  be  slight.  If  you  die  be- 
fore you  reach  bottom,  be  resigned,  and  leave  the  funeral  ar- 
rangements to  somebody  else — especially  the  expenses.  If 
you  have  to  die,  let  it  be  the  last  thing  you  do;  and  don't 
repeat  it.  If  the  accident  proves  fatal,  keep  shy  of  collisions 
in  the  future,  since  a  man  who  suffers  himself  to  undergo 
more  than  one  fatal  injury  is  not  prudent.  I  never  knew  a 
man  to  recover  from  death  by  collision.  If  you  are  thrown 
into  the  air.  stay  up  there  till  things  get  quiet  below.  I  know 
no  instance  of  anybody  who  heeded  these  precautions  that  did 
not  come  out  all  right. 

Collisions  are  not  favorable  to  infidelity,  as  many  a  man 
takes  then  his  first  lesson  in  praying.  Prayers  during  a  col- 
lision should  be  brief.  The  New  Theology  does  not  seem  to 
flourish  in  the  soil  of  a  collision,  nor  does  the  Higher  Criticism 
take  deep  root. 

II  P.M. — Pillows  and  dreams  that  Toplofty  Church 
has  raised  the  stipend  of  the  Rev.  Heredity  Beans, 
D.D.,  to  $29,426.50  1-2  a  minute  and  that  it  takes  nine 
deacons  to  carry  the  collection  plate. 


A  Saturday's  Diary  357 

ii:io  P.M. — Awakened  by  a  knock  at  my  door. 
Dreams  tumble  into  the  cellar  and  I  sit  up  with  a  start. 
It  is  Polytechnic.  I  tell  her  that  she  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  herself  to  rouse  me  when  she  knows  what 
a  terrible  day  I  have  had.  She  says  she  cannot  help  it 
but  Airs.  Slowboy  is  downstairs  and  insists  upon  see- 
ing me.  I  go  to  the  door  and  yell  downstairs  to  ask 
Mrs.  Slowboy  what  she  wants.  Says  she  has  a  no- 
tice for  a  meeting  of  the  Dorcas  Society  she  wants 
read  at  both  services  and  is  afraid  I  won't  remember 
them  if  she  does  not  call  my  especial  attention  to  them. 
I  answer  her  sweetly  to  the  effect  that  indeed  I  will 
not  forget  her,  and  go  back  to  bed.  Will  I  get  through 
the  night  without  another  interruption? 


THE  MANTLE  OF  ELIJAH 


Chapter  XXX. 


I  ALWAYS  have  believed  that  this  world  sadly  needs 
repairing,  and  under  that  irresistible  conviction  which 
only  the  true  reformer  or  the  true  prophet  knows,  I 
resolved  to  give  myself  to  the  hazardous  task  of  refor- 
mation. Besides,  what  was  the  use  of  being  pastor  of 
Goalong's  most  influential  church  unless  I  did  some- 
thing to  rouse  the  town  to  an  appreciation  of  its  defi- 
ciencies ?  Accordingly  I  made  my  will  and  a  few  pre- 
paratory plans  and  set  out.  The  will  simply  left  the 
children  to  Polytechnic  and  the  plans  \n\\\  reveal  them- 
selves as  this  narrative  proceeds. 

My  very  first  effort  as  a  municipal  reform  crusader 
was  to  visit  the  parsonage  of  the  First  Pharisaic 
Church,  on  Tincup  Alley,  to  confer  with  its  pastor,  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Tomlins.  Tomlins  was  a  little  womanish 
sort  of  man,  w^ith  a  passion  for  wTiting  irreligious 
books,  under  the  guise  of  doctrinal  works,  and  preach- 
ing heretical  sermons.  His  veracity  had  suffered 
somewhat  from  dryrot,  due  to  lack  of  exercise,  and 
his  flock  insinnated  that  in  a  crisis  he  would  not  ex- 
press the  entire  truth.  While  making  pretense  of  con- 
siderable learning,  he  betrayed  the  profoundest  igno- 
rance of  the  Scriptures.  He  had  no  definite  belief, 
taught  no  definite  Bible  doctrine,  claimed  that  it  made 
(3.58) 


The  Mantle  of  Elijah  359 

no  difference  what  a  man  believes,  and  doubted  all  the 
fundamentals  of  evangelical  religion. 

"Tomlins,"  I  said,  as  I  walked  into  his  study,  "I'm 
a  prophet,  and  I  have  come  to  proclaim  that  the  time 
is  come  for  judgment  to  begin  at  the  house  of  God — 
and  thou  art  the  man !  Your  preaching  is  doing  more 
harm  than  avowed  infidelity.  Hear  the  words  of  a 
prophet.  Don't  you  think  you  have  lived  long  enough  ? 
Don't  you  think  you  made  a  mistake  in  not  dying  some 
years  ago  ?  See  if  you  can't  correct  the  mistake  in  the 
near  future.  Think  of  the  advantages  of  dying !  How 
many  people  would  reap  untold  benefit!  How  many 
boys  might  be  reclaimed!  If  your  church  doors  were 
closed  what  an  immense  gain  to  the  public,  and  what 
an  improvement  there  would  be  in  the  observance  of 
our  Sabbaths!  This  is  the  only  line  of  usefulness 
open  to  you,  and  the  step  is  necessary  to  a  reforma- 
tion of  the  town.  Pardon  my  enthusiasm,  but  I  see 
the  great  need.  Seize  the  occasion,  Tomlins ;  it  is  the 
opportunity  of  a  lifetime.     Yours  in  hope,  good-by." 

But  Tomlins  was  too  much  dazed  to  reply,  so  I 
stepped  back  to  the  street,  fearing  he  would  not  have 
sufficient  ballast  to  do  the  sensible  thing.  Why  won't 
people  do  right? 

The  prophetic  impulse  waxed  stronger  and  strong- 
er, and  my  enthusiasm  grew  with  the  passing  of  each 
hour.  I  went  down  the  street  shouting,  "The  town 
must  be  reformed!  Society  must  be  redeemed!  Pa- 
gan customs  must  be  abolished !  The  images  of  Baal 
must  be  cast  down!  The  high  places  of  sin  must  be 
made  low !    Our  women  must  be  civilized !" 

As  I  reiterated  these  solemn  exclamations,  some  of 


360  Good  Gumption 

my  most  influential  young  men,  by  a  preconcerted 
arrangement,  caused  all  the  fire  alarms  to  be  sounded, 
all  the  church  bells  to  be  rung,  and  all  the  factory 
whistles  to  be  blown;  while,  not  understanding  the 
rumpus  and  therefore  joining  it,  everything  noisy  in 
the  city  voluntarily  added  whatever  sound  it  could 
make.  The  object  of  this  demonstration  was  to  at- 
tract the  attention  of  the  people,  and  to  enlist  their 
hitherto  dormant  energies  in  something  besides  busi- 
ness and  pleasure. 

To  emphasize  the  importance  of  the  movement,  I 
began  parading  the  streets  with  a  banner  on  one  side 
of  which  were  emblazoned  the  Ten  Commandments 
and  on  the  other  a  cross,  while  a  streamer  of  crape 
floated  from  my  hat,  and  a  girdle  of  white  ribbon  en- 
circled my  waist.  No  Jonah  ever  pronounced  surer 
doom,  and  no  Nineveh  ever  felt  the  thrill  of  greater 
astonishment.  Three  thousand  children  left  the  pub- 
lic schools,  women  gazed  in  awe  out  of  windows,  serv- 
ants deserted  the  kitchens,  nurses  in  consternation 
abandoned  baby  carriages,  barbers  forgot  their  lath- 
ered customers,  judges  and  lawyers  and  jury  forsook 
the  courts,  business  was  suspended,  newsboys  dropped 
their  papers,  merchants  stood  dumfounded  in  their 
doors,  cars  came  to  a  stand,  vehicles  blocked  the 
streets,  dogs  barked,  curious  throngs  followed  the  ban- 
ner with  the  strange  device,  and  even  reporters  ceased 
their  search  for  scandal  to  learn  what  I  was  doing. 

I  halted  my  motley  array  of  reform  in  front  of  the 
"Daily  Home  News"  building,  and  told  it  to  make  a 
doleful  noise.  It  did  so  and  the  editor  fled  into  the 
cellar.     Now  this  same  widely-circulated  paper  had 


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(361) 


362  Good  Gumption 

characterized  a  previous  reform  movement  in  which 
I  had  participated  as  the  dream  of  an  enthusiast,  and 
had  intimated  that  I,  the  reformer,  ought  to  be  put  into 
a  reformatory.  It  seemed  to  be  eminently  proper  to 
disabuse  the  quill-driver's  mind  of  this  sarcasm;  so, 
after  going  to  his  office,  I  sent  the  office-boy  into  the 
depths  to  solicit  his  employer's  presence.  The  editor 
appeared  with  flushed  face,  and  in  an  irate  tone  de- 
manded to  know  what  I  wanted. 

"Mr.  Editor,"  said  I,  as  soon  as  silence  could  be  se- 
cured. ^'Society  must  be  saved!  The  town  must  be 
redeemed!  Editors  must  be  civilized!  Newspapers 
must  be  cleansed !  And  therefore  I  want  you  to  throw 
the  influence  of  your  paper  in  behalf  of  reform." 

'T  must  run  my  paper  in  the  interest  of  its  patrons ; 
and  what  suits  them  suits  me,"  he  returned,  endeavor- 
ing to  "make  a  bluff." 

I  told  the  crowd  to  yell  again,  and  the  editor  trem- 
bled at  the  sound. 

"You  decline,  then,"  I  went  on,  "to  issue  a  civilized 
paper  ? 

"I  have  to  conduct  my  business  on  business  princi- 
ples. I  must  make  money.  I  have  a  family,  and  it 
can't  live  on  corn  cobs." 

Again  I  told  the  mob  to  yell,  and  the  editor's  knees 
began  to  quake. 

"Then,  Mr.  Editor,"  T  continued,  "I  must  array  the 
best  class  of  our  citizens  against  you.  Boys,  how  many 
of  you  will  cancel  your  subscriptions  and  withdraw 
your  advertisements  ?" 

"T II !  I !  I !"  responded  voices  to  the  number  of  about 
two  hundred,  and  then  my  little  army  yelled  some 


The  Mantle  of  Elijah  363 

more.  The  journalist,  at  this,  decided  he  had  made 
sufficient  resistance. 

"Er,  I  say,  Mr.  Beans,  let  me  say  a  word,"  said  he. 
"I'll  do  this :  I'll  give  you  a  column  of  the  paper,  first 
page,  in  which  to  advocate  your  ideas  and  methods 
without  anv  restriction  or  cost  whatever.  That's  the 
best  I  can  do  at  this  time. 

"Thank  you !"  said  I,  for  this  was  quite  satisfactory, 
and  I  moved  ofif  flushed  with  victory.  The  army  scat- 
tered and  did  some  further  yelling.  A  few  of  the  bet- 
ter class  followed  me  home,  pledging  their  hearty  sup- 
port, and  forming  a  nucleus  for  the  reformation.  And 
so  I  set  to  work  to  take  the  editor  at  his  word. 

In  the  next  issue  of  the  "Home  News,"  on  the  first 
page,  there  was  a  column  headed,  "REFORM  DE- 
PARTMENT, conducted  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  H.  Beans, 
who  assumes  all  responsibility  for  matter  found  in  this 
column."      And  this  is  what  was  found  therein: 

A   CLEAN    PAPER.  NEEDED. 

This  paper  has  been  run  in  the  interest  of 
shams,  frauds,  lawlessness,  vice,  and  drunkenness. 
The  reader  will  find  in  this  issue  a  dozen  adver- 
tisements of  saloons  at  which  drunken  revels  are 
held  nightly,  where  scenes  may  be  witnessed  that 
would  disgrace  a  Hottentot  or  make  a  cannibal 
blush.  It  is  hoped  that  as  soon  as  the  editor  be- 
comes civilized,  he  will  give  the  city  a  clean  paper. 
Let  your  subscription  indicate  what  you  think  of 
the  Reform  Movement,  which  has  undertaken 
the  task  of  cleaning  Goalong. 


364  Good  Gumption, 

DR..  TOMLINS*  OPPORTUNITY. 

Yesterday  the  Rev.  Dr.  Tomlins  was,  on  suffi- 
cient grounds,  requested  to  die  at  an  early  date. 
Dr.  Tomlins'  intentions  are  not  yet  known,  but 
his  fellow  citizens  hope  he  will  think  favorably 
of  the  matter,  and  not  miss  so  excellent  a  chance 
of  serving  his  generation.  We  all  shall  await  the 
issue  with  great  anxiety,  and  in  the  meantime,  let 
every  lover  of  progress  and  enlightenment  en- 
courage, by  means  of  a  postal  card,  the  clergy- 
man to  act  promptly  and  wisely.  The  pulpit  must 
be  reformed ! 


YESTERDAY'S  PRIZE-FIGHT. 

There  was  a  prize-fight  at  the  old  circus 
grounds  yesterday  afternoon,  witnessed  by  three 
thousand  of  our  worst  citizens.  The  scene  was  a 
reproduction  of  the  Dark  Ages,,  and  exhibited 
the  worst  ethics  of  pagans.  Its  morals  would 
have  shocked  a  Comanche  Indian ;  its  brutality 
would  have  disgusted  a  Bengal  tiger.  Both  of 
the  participating  cattle  were  badly  bruised  and 
one  seriously  injured,  but  it  is  feared  that  he  will 
recover.  A  petition  will  be  circulated  to-day 
praying  the  Legislature  to  enact  human  laws  con- 
cerning prize-fighting.  All  persons  except  bar- 
barians will  sign  it.  Public  morals  must  be  pro- 
tected ! 

MASQUERADE  BALL. 

The  Southside  Armory  last  night  was  the 
scene  of  a  verv  discreditable  affair  called  a  mas- 


The  Mantle  of  Elijah  365 

querade  ball,  engaged  in  by  certain  so-called  so- 
ciety men  and  women  of  the  city.  Some  of  the 
women  are  daughters  of  hitherto  respected  citi- 
zens. Let  all  young  men  seeking  wives  avoid 
these  girls  of  the  round  dance;  for  what  man 
possessed  of  the  sagacity  of  a  mushroom  wants 
to  marry  a  woman  that's  been  handled  a  couple 
of  seasons  or  so  ?  There  are  two  secondhand  arti- 
cles no  gentleman  wants — a  chew  of  tobacco  and 
a  girl.  The  revels  continued  until  two  o'clock  in 
the  morning  with  all  the  marks  of  heathenism. 
Society  must  be  saved ! 


PROFANE    DRUMMERS. 

It  has  been  reported  that  drummers  stopping  at 
the  Sawdust  Hotel  have  rendered  this  noted  old 
hostelry  unfit  for  gentle  folk,  and  that  they  have 
become  so  openly  unclean  and  profane  in  their  lan- 
guage that  the  city  should  appoint  officers  to 
guard  them  w^hile  within  its  walls,  lest  all  the 
avenues  of  trade  be  corrupted.  They  are  fast 
ceasing  to  speak  English,  and  seem  to  confine 
their  conversation  to  a  swearing  lingo.  They  are 
most  peculiar ;  they  go  about  smoking  cigars  and 
gasping  every  few  seconds,  'T'll  be  damned!" — 
and,  no  doubt  they  will  be.  Any  gentleman  who 
had  to  live  in  the  same  quarters  with  them  would 
commit  suicide.  It  makes  us  weep  to  think  of  the 
corrupting  influences  these  obscene,  profane, 
gambling,  drinking,  boisterous  human  animals 
will  exert  on  the  demons.    No  wonder  they  have 


366  Good  Gumption 

to  be  chained  to  keep  them  in  the  place  where 
drummers  go.    The  city  must  be  cleansed ! 

MODERN  BARBARISM. 

Quite  a  large  number  of  women  continue  to 
appear  on  the  streets  with  insufficient  clothing, 
resembling  in  quantity  Oriental  costumes,  indica- 
ting that  the  wearers  had  forgotten  to  complete 
their  toilet.  The  attention  of  the  city  authori- 
ties has  been  called  to  this  species  of  immodesty, 
and  hereafter  females  who  go  about  the  thor- 
oughfares attired  in  low-necked  dresses  will  be 
in  danger  of  arrest.    The  women  must  be  clothed ! 

Attention  is  also  directed  to  the  depraved  taste 
evinced  by  persons,  who  otherwise  would  be  re- 
spectable, in  the  selection  of  pictures,  statuary, 
and  books.  Nine-tenths  of  the  homes  in  the  city 
of  Goalong  are  disfigured  by  nude  statues  and 
immodest  pictures.  Half  the  calendars  in  the 
town  are  indecent,  and  more  than  half  the  books 
and  magazines  are  saturated  with  sensationalism, 
profanity,  and  impurity.  Some  of  the  things  pic- 
tured and  printed  on  the  walls  and  the  book- 
shelves of  Goalong  would  corrupt  a  savage  and 
nauseate  a  buzzard.  A  roster  of  the  houses 
amenable  to  the  above-mentioned  charge  will  be 
kept  by  the  police  to  indicate  the  places  to  look 
for  criminals.  The  homes  of  the  people  must  be 
fumisrated ! 


't>' 


THE  THEATER. 

A  vaudeville  performance  will  take  place  to- 
night at  the  Academy  of  Music.     Only  the  de- 


The  Mantle  of  Elijah  367 

praved  attend  these  exhibitions  of  shame.  The 
man  or  woman  who  has  beheld  the  immoral  pic- 
tures on  the  sign  boards,  and  then  goes  to  see  the 
play,  confesses  thereby  to  a  fall.  The  stage  pan- 
ders to  the  lowest  tastes  of  mankind,  and  there  is 
not  a  moral  theater  in  the  world.  The  dress,  tone, 
and  life  of  actors  and  actresses  all  savor  of  the 
worst  features  of  heathenism.  The  amusements 
of  the  city  must  be  scoured ! 


OBITUARY. 

Another  fraud  is  dead.  Old  Hunks  Russell 
will  be  buried  at  three  o'clock  this  afternoon.  Let 
everything  that  hath  breath  praise  the  Lord! 
How  beneficent  are  the  offices  of  Death  to  rid 
the  community  of  so  consummate  an  octopus. 
Russell  started  as  a  teacher  in  the  public  schools 
of  the  city,  got  whipped  by  a  boy  he  insulted,  be- 
came an  officer  in  his  church,  robbed  the  eccle- 
siastical treasury,  started  a  brewery,  gambled, 
got  rich,  died,  and  is  visiting  his  master,  the 
Devil,  for  an  indefinite  period.  The  more  I  know 
of  such  people,  the  better  I  like  dogs.  Oh !  Tom- 
lins,  why  dost  thou  linger?  The  public  interests 
must  be  guarded ! 


THE  CITY   CHAIN-GANG. 

On  our  streets  daily  may  be  seen  a  small  band 
of  industrious  men,  who,  having  forsaken  all  that 
the  earth  holds  dear,  have  been  induced,  under 
stress  of  untoward  circumstances,  to  unite  in  a 


368  Good  Gumption 

society  for  mutual  improvement,  known  in  judi- 
ciary circles  as  "the  chain-gang."  It  is  not  al- 
together a  pleasing  institution,  yet  it  has,  perhaps, 
its  advantages.  It  is,  in  the  first  place,  one  of  the 
few  organizations  that  have  as  their  sole  object 
the  moral  culture  of  its  members.  It  seeks  nei- 
ther pleasure  nor  money.  It  works  for  others  en- 
tirely and  attends  strictly  to  its  own  business. 

Its  members  are  active  and  useful  in  a  high 
degree,  as  the  construction  of  city  pavements, 
ditches,  and  public  buildings  will  demonstrate. 
They  have  done  more  for  the  town  than  all  the 
dudes,  political  tricksters,  gossips,  and  revelers 
put  together.  For  this  they  have  received  scant 
praise.  But  even  at  this  tardy  hour,  let  justice  be 
done,  though  the  heavens  fall.  They  are  the  best- 
behaved  people  to  be  met  on  the  street.  They 
have  been,  it  is  true,  found  guilty  of  some  offences, 
for  which  they  are  justly  held  to  account,  but 
their  vices  are  less  conspicuous  and  heinous  than 
those  of  seventy-five  per  cent  of  the  populace. 

They  do  less  harm  than  skeptical  preachers  like 
Tomlins,  rogues  like  Russell,  politicians  like  our 
mayor,  Mr.  Grafter,  and  Sabbath  breakers  like 
many  of  our  citizens  in  high  life.  A  prize-fighter 
cripples  his  opponent,  and  gets  $5,000;  a  man  in 
the  slums  slaps  his  neighbor  in  the  face,  and  gets 
30  days.  A  speculator  commits  robbery  by  gam- 
bling in  futures,  and  takes  a  wife;  another  man 
commits  robbery  by  abstracting  a  chicken,  and 
takes  a  ball-and-chain.  A  successful  swindler 
steals  half  a  million,  and  goes  to  the  Legislature: 


The  Mantle  of  Elijah  369 

a  pauper  steals  a  watermelon,  and  goes  to  jail. 
No  doubt  this  is  due  to  the  fact  that  Justice  is 
blindfolded.  Lets  help  her  out  of  her  difficulty 
and  the  real  rogues  into  jail. 

The  chain-gang  thus  far  has  been  too  exclu- 
sive; it  should  be  enlarged  so  as  to  be  of  greater 
benefit  to  society,  and  include  all  frauds,  dealers 
in  liquor,  corrupters  of  youth,  swearers,  writers 
of  vicious  literature,  and  all  people  that  have  been 
untrue  to  their  marriage  vows.  Hitherto  the 
wrong  people  have  joined  the  gang;  but  hence- 
forth let  the  city  fathers  see  to  it  that  its  ranks 
are  recruited  from  brown-stone  fronts  and  gilded 
offices,  so  that  the  best  interests  of  the  town  be 
conserved.     Reform  must  triumph! 


Thus  closed  my  editorial  work,  which  required 
somewhat  more  than  the  allotted  space.  The  carriers 
had  hardly  delivered  the  morning  paper,  when  I  be- 
gan to  realize  what  the  prophet  meant  by  the  "burden 
of  the  word  of  the  Lord."  It  dawned  upon  me  what 
it  costs  to  be  a  reformer.  My  fellow  citizens  were  an- 
gry with  me  because  I  had  laid  down  some  general 
principles  of  ethical  conduct  which  a  tame  hyena  would 
admit;  my  philanthropy,  however,  awakened  only  in- 
gratitude and  abuse.  It  was  again  the  question  of  the 
ancient  seer,  "Who  hath  believed  our  report?" 

Things  began  to  happen  around  the  residence  of 
the  Reverend  Heredity  Beans,  D.D.,  after  the  ''Daily 
Home  News"  had  been  well  read  throughout  town. 
So  much  happened,  indeed,  that  until  the  Reverend 

Heredity  got  into  harness  again   and  began  to  do 

24 


370  Good  Gumption 

things  himself  I  can  only  give  a  brief  account,  so  I 
copy  from  my  diary  as  follows : 

p:^o  o'clock. — At  late  breakfast,  eating  scrambled 
eggs  and  corn  bread — an  interruption  is  unsavory  at 
such  a  time — the  door-bell  jingles.  Wax  answers  it. 
He  delays  his  return.  Back  later — flushed  face  and  a 
smile.  "W^hat's  the  matter,  Wax?"  inquires  his 
frightened  mother.  "Oh!  'taint  nothin',  ma.  Just 
the  Mayor's  cub  brought  a  message  to  pa,  that  he'd 
better  not  come  down  the  street  until  he  'pologized 
for  that  insult  he — I  mean  pa — put  in  the  "Home 
News"  about  him — I  mean  the  mayor."  "But  that 
didn't  make  your  face  so  red,  did  it?"  "Nom'e;  but 
you  see,  that  kid  said  his  daddy  was  goin'  to  bust  my 
daddy ;  and  I  busted  him — I  mean  the  kid.  That  was 
all,  ma."  "My  son,"  say  I,  "have  you  forgotten  that 
your  father  is  trying  to  reform  this  town?" 

10  o'clock. — The  postman  delivers  a  peck  of  letters. 
All  of  Tomlins'  friends  and  Russell's  family  demand 
apologies.  All  the  male  kin  of  the  women  who  at- 
tended the  masquerade  ball  and  the  theater  address 
me  in  vehement  speech.  Eight  of  the  letters  contain 
challenges.  I  accept  them  all — weapons,  squirt-guns ; 
distance,  quarter  of  a  mile;  backs  facing,  Bucephalus 
second ;  time,  midnight. 

11  o'clock. — Quick  jerks  at  the  bell.  The  parlor  is 
full  of  irate  women.  Two  married  ladies  tell  me  that 
I  have  caused  trouble  in  their  homes.  Their  husbands 
have  taken  down  some  of  the  most  costly  pictures  in 
the  house  and  thrown  them  into  the  ash  barrel.  Hard- 
ly a  calendar,  even,  can  be  found  on  the  walls,  while 
three  beautiful  Cupids  have  been  carted  to  the  dump- 


The  Mantle  of  Elijah  371 

ing  ground.  "Your  husbands  are  wise  and  deserve 
better  spouses,"  I  reply,  showing  them  out.  Next! 
A  dozen  young  women  speak  at  once.  Shut  'em  off. 
gag  eleven  and  tell  the  twelfth  to  go  ahead.  She  says : 
"We  have  spent  hundreds  of  dollars  on  our  spring 
costumes,  and  now  they  are  perfectly  useless  on  ac- 
count of  your  awful  criticisms.  We  are  real  indig- 
nant. You  know  the  low-necked  dress  is  quite  the 
fashion,  and  just  lovely ;  and  now  we  have  to  give  them 
to  the  servants !"  "That's  hard  on  the  servants — 
poor  things!"  I  reply.  "Better  send  them  to  the  Afri- 
can Kaffirs.  Next!"  Two  frying-size  girls,  sobbing, 
say  their  lovers  have  broken  their  engagements  be- 
cause they  attended  the  masquerade  ball  the  other 
night,  "just  because  you  put  something  in  the  paper 
about  it.  Oh!  it's  a  shame!"  "Yes,  that's  what  I  think 
about  it.  Don't  do  so  any  more.  Tell  your  sweet- 
hearts to  give  you  another  trial,  and  promise  them 
you'll  do  better.     Be  good  children ;  good-by !" 


AND     WHAT    IS    MAN> 


Chapter   XXXI. 


I  RESOLVED  to  take  the  prophet's  chances,  and  faced 
the  mob.  As  I  opened  the  door  and  stepped  on  the 
porch,  a  hundred  weapons  were  leveled  at  my  breast, 
some  female  fists  were  shaken  at  me,  and  a  couple 
(possibly  three)  of  brick-bats  whizzed  above  my  head. 
I  raised  my  hand  to  secure  a  hearing,  for  I  felt  I  could 
talk  them  into  reason. 

"Fellow-citizens,"  said  I,  "you  look  hungry.  ["Yes, 
and  we've  come  here  to  eat  you  up.  We  like  goose."] 
Well,  I  feel  sure  I  would  not  agree  with  you;  but,  if 
you  will  throw  yourselves  in  line  with  the  reform 
movement  which  is  sweeping  over  the  town,  I  promise 
you  a  good  square  meal.     [Cheers.] 

"Do  I  hear  some  one  in  the  crowd  whisper  that  the 
parson  would  have  a  lively  time  feeding  fifteen  hun- 
dred people?  Fellow  patriots,  I  have  on  hand  a  bet- 
ter scheme  than  that.  It  is  this :  Reform  means  bread 
for  the  hungry,  clothes  for  the  naked,  and  shelter  for 
the  houseless.  Tt  also  means  civilization  and  Chris- 
tianity. Most  of  us  are  born  savages,  and  stay  so  till 
we  die.  ["Say,  do  you  mean  us?"]  No,  I  mean  those 
uncivilized  people  on  the  other  side  of  town.  The  in- 
habitants of  this  city  are  made  up  mostly  of  barba- 
rians, fools,  women,  and  dogs.  ["Is  yer  'ludin'  to  my 
(372) 


And  What  Is  Man?  373 

ole  'oman,  Cap'n  ?"]  No,  I'm  talking  about  that  wom- 
an on  the  other  side  of  the  street.  ["Then  you're 
p'intin'  at  my  ole  gal."]  Oh,  no;  I'm  speaking  of  that 
family  that  lives  on  another  street.  ["But  how  about 
that  good  square  meal?"] 

"Well,  gentlemen,  I  believe  that  those  who  have 
made  you  hungry,  ought  to  feed  you.  ["That's 
right!"]  The  saloons  have,  furnished  you  drink,  but 
have  given  you  no  bread.  They  have  stirred  your  pas- 
sions, and  taken  advantage  of  the  storm  raised  by  my 
effort  to  save  society,  to  send  you  here  to  abuse  me 
and  check  the  movement.  Russell's  brewery  is  at  the 
bottom  of  it.  ["That's  so!  That's  so!"]  This  is  all 
the  evidence  I  want.  Now,  my  friends,  in  anticipa- 
tion of  something  like  this,  I  have  made  arrangement 
to  have  served,  at  short  notice,  a  good,  square  dinner 
at  the  Sawdust  Hotel  at  the  expense  of  the  Russell 
estate.  The  executor  knows  that  he  will  do  well  to 
get  off  so  lightly,  for  he  has  committed,  in  organizing 
this  riot,  one  of  the  gravest  oft'ences  known  to  the  law. 
["Fried  oysters  for  me!"  "Chicken  and  gravy  for 
me!"  "Turkey  hash  and  'taters  fur  me!"  "Gimme  er 
good,  squar  dinner  and  some  trimmin's  in  de  shape  of 
ice  cream  and  cake!"]  Yes,  you  shall  have  that  and 
more  too.  Bring  your  wives  and  children  and  kin  and 
friends.    Dinner  will  be  ready  at  two  o'clock. 

"This  afternoon,  after  you  have  eaten,  I  shall  have 
work  for  you  to  do.  Put  on  your  best  clothes  and 
whet  your  appetite.  ["Now,  parson,  this  thing  won't 
be  complete  'cep'n'  Mrs.  Beans  comes  down  and  sits 
at  the  head  of  the  table  to  give  it  'spectability."]  All 
right !    She'll  be  on  hand  to  see  that  you  get  plenty  of 


374  Good  Gumption 

coffee."      [''Three   cheers   for   Mrs.    Beans!     Three 
cheers  for  the  parson!    Three  cheers  for  reform!"] 

The  news  of  the  feast  spread  hke  wildfire  to  every 
factory  and  shop  in  the  city.  A  free  dinner  and  a  band 
of  music  have  pecuhar  attractions  for  the  major  por- 
tion of  mankind ;  it  was,  therefore,  not  difficuU  to  im- 
press bosses  with  the  opportuneness  of  a  half-hoHday. 

According  to  notice,  at  i  :45  o'clock,  the  laboring 
people,  together  with  a  multitude  that  were  not  labor- 
ers, came  streaming  through  the  streets  and  alleys,  as ' 
thoroughly  pagan  as  any  mob  that  ever  defiled  through 
the  gates  of  ancient  Babylon:  with  the  same  hopes, 
pleasures,  ideals,  and  pretty  much  the  same  gods; 
moved  by  the  same  impulses,  governed  by  the  same 
prejudices ;  in  the  same  way  tools  in  the  hands  of  any 
leader — threatening  a  reformer  in  the  forenoon,  fol- 
lowing him  in  the  afternoon.    What  is  man  ? 

The  crowd  was  to  form  in  line  of  march  at  Blizzard 
Square.  The  band  led,  followed  by  the  children ;  then 
came  the  women,  many  of  whom  carried  babes  in  their 
arms ;  last  came  the  males.  Some  of  the  stronger  sons 
of  toil  elevated  me  on  their  shoulders  while  the  women, 
determined  not  to  be  outdone  by  the  sterner  sex,  raised 
Polytechnic  to  the  same  honor.  As  I  unfurled  a  small 
United  States  flag  which  I  bore  in  my  hand,  the  band 
struck  up  "The  Star-Spangled  Banner,"  and  my  mot- 
ley army  raised  a  yell  that  made  the  welkin  ring.  We 
reached  the  hotel  in  perfect  order,  and  not  a  man,  not 
a  woman,  nor  a  child  was  missing,  for  the  god  Pan 
has  always  a  good  congregation. 

Of  course,  it  required  time  and  tact  to  handle  this 
immense  concourse  of  humanity,  but  there  was  never 


And  What  Is  Man?  375 

a  better-behaved  set  of  heathen  this  side  tlie  moon. 
Polytechnic  superintended  the  coffee,  while  some  of 
the  most  cultured  young  men  and  women  from  the  best 
churches  in  the  city  assumed  the  role  of  waiting  on  the 
rabble  and  toilers,  to  the  infinite  delight  of  all. 

Jovial  expressions  passed  from  lip  to  lip,  and  mirth 
was  plentiful :  "If  this  is  reform,  put  me  an'  my  wife 
down  for  a  few  of  it!"  "Yes,  I'll  take  a  couple!" 
"'An'  if  this  be  civilization,  I  want  my  ole  'oman's  cup- 
board full  of  it!"  "An'  faith,  this  is  the  fust  time  I 
iver  filt  that  I  wus  er  gintlemun!"  exclaimed  a  round- 
faced  Irish  matron. 

The  dinner,  at  length,  was  finished  and  the  crowd 
was  Happy.  It  was  the  hour  for  reformation — ^you 
can't  reform  a  hungry  man — so  standing  in  the  center 
of  one  of  the  tables,  surrounded  by  the  wreck  that  fol- 
lows in  the  wake  of  hungry  crusaders,  I  opened  fire 
with  oratory  again. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  I  shouted;  "I  wish  to 
speak  a  word  about  the  reform  movement  that  is 
sweeping  through  the  city.  I  rely  on  your  cooperation 
for  success.  ["And  you  shall  have  it,  parson."]  I 
want  to  start  with  the  babies.  ["An'  faith,  do  ye  ba 
afther  reformin'  the  babbies,  mon?"]  Yes;  I  want  to 
reform  the  little  ones.  All  babies  are  born  heathen, 
and  unless  removed  from  their  environment,  most  of 
them  will  stay  so.  ["An'  it's  er  fact,  as  shure  as  I 
spake  the  English  linguage.  They  needs  er  fray  din- 
ner ivery  now* an'  thin."] 

"If  your  children  remain  where  they  are,  they  will 
grow  up  to  be  just  like  their  parents,  and  the  town 
cannot  be  civilized.     Many  of  you  are  overstocked 


376  Good  Gumption 

with  offspring,  while  there  are  in  the  town  numerous 
couples  that  are  childless,  and  an  army  of  old  bach- 
elors, all  of  whom  ought  to  share  the  burden  of  rear- 
ing children.  The  responsibilities  of  life  ought  in 
some  measure  to  be  equalized.  Now,  I'm  going  to 
borrow  all  the  babies  that  are  insufficiently  clothed, 
fed,  or  housed. 

'*Ha !  ha !  ha !"  went  all  over  the  hall  like  a  galvanic 
shock.  "It's  er  good  idee !"  exclaimed  a  hundred  tired 
and  haggard  mothers.  "I  kin  lind  ye  saix,"  chimed  in 
the  Irish  lady. 

In  a  few  moments  there  were  nine  hundred  and 
forty-five  babies  pledged,  to  be  disposed  of  as  sug- 
gested above.  It  was  understood  that  they  might  re- 
cover the  infants  when  able  to  care  properly  for  them. 

"Now,  fellow  patriots,"  said  I,  in  closing,  "I  call  at- 
tention to  the  approaching  election,  which  is  to  deter- 
mine whether  rum  shall  rule  our  city  any  longer. 
There  is  but  one  way  for  any  man  who  has  passed  be- 
yond the  barbaric  state  to  vote.  What  say  you,  gen- 
tlemen?" Many  were  non-committal,  but  a  goodly 
number  pledged  me  their  support. 

My  variegated  host  next  paraded  the  streets  for 
about  two  hours  to  the  sound  of  martial  music.  The 
women  deposited  their  babies  where  they  thought  they 
would  be  best  provided  for,  rang  the  bell,  and  stepped 
back  into  the  procession.  At  the  mayor's  office,  the 
Irish  sister,  among  others,  donated  a  pair  of  twins,  to 
the  hilarious  amusement  of  many  spectators.  The 
babes  were  generally  taken  up  by  servants  or  the 
housewife,  but  occasionally  by  the  master  of  the  house 
himself.     In  such  cases  eyes  wildly  flashed  fire,  lips 


V) 


< 

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O 


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o 

Q 

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CO 

02    >■ 

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s  < 
c  -^ 

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O    H 

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(377) 


378  Good  Gumption 

spake  unsavory  words,  and  tongues  pronounced  anath- 
emas on  the  humble  reformer. 

The  next  mail  flooded  me  with  compliments  which  I 
prefer  not  to  repeat.  Offended  husbands  and  old 
bachelors  sent  me  twenty-seven  more  challenges  and 
I  accepted  all  of  them  on  the  same  conditions  as  pre- 
viously stated.  Next  I  nerved  myself  for  a  duel  with 
King  Rum. 

The  temperance  wave  some  little  time  before  had 
reached  the  city  of  Goalong,  which  fact  tossed  and 
mixed  and  conglomerated  things  in  no  small  degree. 
Parties  had  been  formed  in  favor  of  the  saloon,  and 
parties  had  been  as  promptly  formed  with  the  deter- 
mination of  destroying  the  saloon.  The  contest  regis- 
tered so  high  on  the  political  thermometer  that  every 
citizen  was  forced  by  public  sentiment  to  take  sides 
for  or  against  the  monster,  that  had  been,  with  pass- 
ing years,  more  and  more  defiantly  menacing  the  lib- 
erty and  civilization  of  the  republic. 

As  for  myself,  being  by  nature  a  reformer,  I  en- 
tered now  into  the  struggle  with  tireless  zeal.  I  spoke 
in  private  on  the  subject,  and  I  preached  and  lectured 
in  public ;  besides,  I  wrote  about  a  peck  of  articles  on 
the  question  in  its  various  phases  every  week  for  the 
daily  papers.  The  grog  men,  not  appreciating  my  ef- 
forts to  redeem  the  city  from  the  jaws  of  ruin,  threat- 
ened to  burn  my  parsonage  and  take  my  life.  On  one 
occasion,  as  I  was  returning  home  after  nightfall; 
some  individuals  of  the  baser  sort  stoned  me;  while 
on  another,  as  I  was  leaving  church  after  evening 
service,  a  couple  of  hired  bravoes  shot  at  me — and 
ran ;  so  that's  the  reason  I  didn't  run  myself. 


And  What  Is  Man?  379 

My  stand  on  the  temperance  question  made  me  a 
leader  in  the  fierce  struggle  in  which  the  town  was  en- 
gaged. The  rum-sellers  feared  and  hated  me;  they 
burned  me  in  effigy ;  they  swore  that,  if  the  impending 
election  went  against  them,  they  would  write  my  obit- 
uary in  my  own  blood;  and  in  addition  to  these  com- 
pliments, they  serenaded  me  with  bacchanalian  songs. 
So  intense  was  the  feeling  of  the  dram-sellers  toward 
me  on  account  of  the  cause  I  esp.oused,  that,  while  I 
was  passing  down  Grog  Avenue  the  night  before  the 
election,  on  my  way  to  address  a  meeting  on  the  sub- 
ject of  voting  liquor  out  of  the  city,  some  roughs  threw 
a  dynamite  bomb  between  my  legs.  The  shell,  from 
some  cause,  failed  to  explode ;  but  I  didn't.  I  jumped 
five  feet,  eight  inches  into  the  air  and  uttered  a  war 
whoop.  The  liquor  men  ran  together  to  see  what  had 
become  of  my  bones,  and  then  disappeared. 

"Fm  blown  to  pieces!"  I  screamed  rushing  down 
the  avenue,  lined  with  bar-rooms,  *'my  bones  are  scat- 
tered all  over  the  city!"  And  as  I  fled,  I  kicked  a 
dozen  saloon  windows  to  atoms,  unable  to  control  the 
action  of  my  limbs. 

Arriving  at  the  Opera  House,  the  immense  crowd 
there  greeted  me  with  deafening  applause  as  I  as- 
cended the  rostrum  to  make  the  closing  speech  of  the 
campaign.  Never  had  public  speaker  a  more  refined 
and  cultured  audience  on  the  one  hand,  or  a  more  be- 
sotted and  diabolical  set  of  roughs  on  the  other.  Brave 
men  gave  me  their  hand ;  anxious  mothers  prayed  for 
me;  beautiful  maidens  smiled  on  me;  the  votaries  of 
the  rum-shops  hissed  me;  while  the  Irish  lady  spoke 
out  in  meeting,  and  said:  "If  I  niver  smoile  agin,  me 


380  Good  Gumption 

old  mon  shill  vote  aginst  the  rummies,  fur  this  is  the 
gintlemun  that  borrowed  the  babbies!" 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  I  began.  "I  realize  to-night 
as  never  before,  that,  in  a  large  measure,  the  destiny 
of  the  race  depends  upon  the  success  of  the  temper- 
ance movement.  If  the  rum  traffic  is  not  suppressed — 
and  it  can  be  suppressed  only  by  the  omnipotence  of 
the  ballot  box — the  nation  will  deteriorate  into  a  herd 
of  red-noses,  and  the  Millennium  will  be  retarded 
twenty-five  centuries. 

"Look  for  a  moment  at  the  sad  condition  of  the 
United  States.  The  bloody  hand  of  Rum  has  clutched 
the  throat  of  this  republic.  The  mighty  giant  of 
strong  drink  has  placed  his  tyrannic  heel  on  the  lofty 
head  of  the  American  eagle,  so  that  the  national  bird 
flaps  its  wings  hopelessly  in  the  dust  of  humiliation. 
The  influence  of  liquor  is  felt  from  Washington  to 
San  Francisco,  and  from  the  Golden  Gate  to  the  Phil- 
ippine Islands.  Strong  drink  is  king  in  Congress  as 
well  as  in  our  jury  boxes.  It  rules  the  brown-stone 
front  as  truly  as  the  hovel  of  the  back  street.  Bacchus 
is  one  of  the  chief  of  the  American  deities,  honored  by 
nine-tenths  of  the  politicians. 

"Fellow-citizens,  do  you  believe  your  ears  when  I 
declare  to  you,  from  the  remorseless  table  of  statistics, 
that  there  are  in  this  country  500,000  rum-sellers  go- 
ing about,  like  their  venerable  progenitor,  seeking 
whom  they  may  devour?  What  think  you  of  the 
800,000  drunken  paupers  and  children,  costing  the 
tax-payers  $100,000,000?  \\'hat  think  you  of  the 
300,000  intemperate  criminals,  who  live,  not  by  their 
means,  but  by  their  meanness  ?    ^^^hat  think  you  of  the 


And  What  Is  Man?  381 

100,000  American  youths  who  are  demonized  every 
year  by  strong  drink?  What  say  you,  fellow-citizens, 
when  our  people  spend  more  money  on  liquor  than  on 
clothing,  bread,  education,  and  religion,  all  put  to- 
gether? With  what  emotion  do  you  learn  that  60,- 
000  drunkards  die  every  year  ? 

"Ah !  ladies  and  gentlemen,  don't  your  hearts  heave 
a  sigh  of  compassion  for  the  lost  angels  that  are  forced 
to  live  amid  such  corrupting  influences  ?  How  terrible 
a  place  the  Bottomless  Pit  must  be,  when  to  its  census 
are  added  60,000  drunkards  every  year!  Who  can 
blame  Satan  for  trying  to  break  the  chains  that  con- 
fine him  to  such  a  crowd  ? 

"They  tell  us  of  moral  suasion.  Gentlemen,  you 
had  just  as  well  preach  the  Ten  Commandments  to  a 
hungry  mosquito,  as  to  -appeal  to  the  moral  sense  of  a 
sot  or  a  bar-keeper,  I  have  tried  the  experiment,  but 
with  small  success.  On  one  occasion,  seeing  Pat 
O'Kelley  in  the  gutter  conversing  with  a  toad,  I  re- 
solved to  reform  him.  I  hired  a  dray  to  bring  Pat  to 
the  parsonage,  and  had  him  put  into  a  nice  clean  bed, 
intending  to  doctor  him  with  moral  suasion. 

"So,  next  morning,  after  having  given  Pat  a  suit 
of  clothes  and  a  hat,  I  had  his  shoes  blacked,  and  put 
him  at  the  foot  of  the  table,  to  make  him  feel  the 
weight  of  responsibility.  I  thought  Pat  belonged  to  a 
large  class  of  people  that  the  world  had  neglected  too 
long,  and  that  such  persons  must  be  reformed  and 
made  respectable.  I  gave  Pat  a  Bible,  and  took  him  to 
prayer  meeting.  He  told  the  congregation  that  I  was 
the  making  of  him,  and  he  had  a  mind  to  preach. 
Next  morning  forty-seven  sots  came  to  the  parson- 


382  Good  Gumption 

age  to  get  breakfast,  a  suit  of  clothes,  and  have  their 
shoes  blacked,  all  having  a  mind  to  preach.  It  seemed 
that  the  town  would  go  distracted,  and  that  the  whole 
earth  was  turning  to  righteousness.  But  I  fixed  up 
the  sots,  and  told  them  to  meet  me  at  the  temperance 
lodge  Tuesday  night.  But  before  Tuesday  night 
came,  these  reformed  drunkards  each  wanted  to  bor- 
row ten  dollars  from  me;  but  as  I  didn't  have  funds 
enough  to  go  round  at  that  rate,  I  let  them  have  two 
dollars  and  a  half  each.  Well,  that  was  the  last  of 
these  gentlemen ;  and  Pat — why,  he  got  so  respectable 
and  so  thoroughly  reformed  that  he  eloped  Saturday 
night  with  my  silver  watch  and  Sunday  breeches. 

"My  friends,  our  legislation  on  the  strong  drink 
question  is  a  miserable  botch,  and  I  assert,  without 
fear  of  successful  contradiction,  that  a  one-legged 
goose  in  a  frosted  pea-field  could  hatch  up  a  better  set 
of  laws  in  ten  seconds.  But  the  geese  that  fiock  to  our 
Legislatures  have  not  so  much  good  gumption.  Not 
observing  the  slim  influence  of  moral  suasion  on  them- 
selves, they  quack  to  us  that  we  must  use  it. 

"Gentlemen,  why  not  employ  the  same  suasion  in 
handling  all  other  evils?  The  law  appoints  a  police 
force  in  the  towns  to  maintain  order,  and  then  sets  up 
a  dram-shop  to  kick  up  a  fuss.  The  law  demands  or- 
der, and  then  licenses  the  saloon  to  create  disorder. 
The  law  builds  an  orphan  asylum,  and  then  makes  or- 
phans to  put  in  it,  by  licensing  an  institution  to  kill 
their  fathers.  The  law  permits  the  grog-seller  to  up- 
set the  reason,  and  then  builds  an  insane  asylum.  The 
law  condemns  divorce,  and  then  sufTers  the  saloon  to 
unfit  the  husband  for  married  life.    The  law  smiles  on 


And  What  Is  Man?  383 

a  business  that  trains  a  man  for  murder,  and  then 
hangs  the  murderer.  Isn't  that  wisdom  on  a  high 
key?  If  a  man  give  his  neighbor  a  fatal  dose  of 
strychnine,  he  must  take  a  swing,  but  if  he  give  his 
neighbor  a  fatal  drink,  destroying  both  body  and  soul, 
the  strong  arm  of  this  great  government  fondles  and 
protects  him,  and  says  in  blandished  strains,  'Go  it, 
boots;  do  it  again!'  Gentlemen,  such  a  law  is  a  fit 
emetic  for  the  Apostate  Angel ! 

"The  great  Paul  said,  'Beware  of  dogs!'  I  say  in 
behalf  of  decency  and  humanity,  'Beware  of  such  dog- 
kennels  !'  Better  turn  loose  a  pack  of  bloodhounds  in 
the  community;  better  infest  the  streets  with  deadly 
serpents ;  better  let  a  thousand  rotting  lepers  run  ram- 
pant on  the  highways,  than  to  permit  these  institu- 
tions of  barbarism  to  continue  their  mission. 

"You  sots  and  grog-sellers  of  the  city  of  Goalong, 
what  have  you  and  your  kind  done  for  America  ?  You 
have  broken  the  hearts  of  tens  and  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands of  mothers  in  this  fair  land,  who  to-night  are 
sobbing  over  their  drunken  sons.  You  have  turned 
the  husbands  of  unnumbered  wives  into  pestilential 
carcasses.  You  have  clothed  myriads  of  children  in 
rags,  and  converted  happy  homes  into  boneyards. 
Walk  through  the  orphan  asylums,  peopled  with  your 
victims ;  enter  the  jails,  and  see  the  criminals  you  have 
made ;  go  to  the  pest-houses,  and  see  the  work  of  your 
hands ;  visit  the  gallows,  where  you  ought  to  spend  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  and  look  at  the  ghosts  of  your 
murdered  patrons ;  frequent  the  burning  Tartarus,  and 
behold  the  fires  you  have  kindled,  and  hear  the  sigh- 
ings  of  the  damned ! 


384  Good  Gumption 

"Fellow-citizens  of  this  noble  old  city!  Buckle  on 
the  temperance  armor !  Rouse  you  for  the  fight !  The 
battle  is  between  right  and  wrong;  between  liberty  and 
slavery;  between  home  and  the  dram-shop;  between 
God  and  the  Devil.  On  the  coming  morrow,  rush  to 
the  polls,  and  vote  the  accursed  villainy  out  of  town 
forever.  And  the  God  of  battles  grant  that  this  may 
be  a  red-letter  day  in  our  calendar,  and  in  the  history 
of  our  achievements  a  great  Waterloo." 

Honestly  I  didn't  mean  a  joke  when  I  said  Water- 
loo, but  some  of  my  hearers  thought  I  purposely 
meant'  to  indicate  the  kind  of  fluid  Goalong  would 
drink  after  election.  The  impression  this  speech  made 
on  my  audience  must  be  imagined ;  it  cannot  be  de- 
scribed. The  grog  men  hooted  and  hissed;  they 
stamped  their  feet  and  cursed ;  but  the  friends  of  tem- 
perance shouted,  and  laughed,  and  hurrahed.  The 
ladies  blessed  me  as  strong  men  bore  me  through  the 
streets  on  their  shoulders. 

Next  day,  after  much  maneuvering  and  earnest 
voting,  it  was  discovered,  about  five  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  that  the  temperance  cause  had  won  a  signal 
victory.  Of  course,  in  the  midst  of  such  excitement, 
I  lost  my  equipoise,  and  set  out  down  the  street,  with 
Polytechnic's  everyday  sun-bonnet  on,  whooping  and 
shouting  and  cracking  my  heels  together  like  a  ten- 
year-old  boy. 

The  reform  movement  was  triumphant;  yet  in  the 
midst  of  my  joy,  a  dark  shadow  settled  over  my  home. 
Wax,  with  broken  heart  and  streaming  eyes,  came 
rushing  into  my  study,  announcing  in  sobbing  accents 
that  Bucephalus  was  dead.    Tt  was  as  if  death  had  vis- 


And  What  Is  Man?  385 

itcd  my  own  family.  Bucephalus  was  nearly  of  my 
own  age,  having  passed  with  me  through  the  changes 
of  an  eventful  life.  He  had  grown  old  under  my  sad- 
dle, had  become  a  pet  with  Polytechnic  and  the  chil- 
dren, and  seemed  to  regard  himself  as  a  member  of 
the  household,  entitled  to  all  of  its  joys  and  its  privi- 
leges. So  I  decided  to  take  him  back  to  our  old  home 
at  Shakerag,  and,  ha\'ing  conveyed  him  thither,  fol- 
lowed by  the  entire  family  in  tears,  gave  him  an  honor- 
able sepulture  in  the  little  cemetery  there.  And  T 
placed  a  neat  plank  at  the  head  of  the  grave,  and  in- 
scribed on  it  these  true  words : 

IN  MEMORY  OF  BUCEPHALUS. 

Thou  leavest  an  honored  name ;  thy  part  thou  liast 

well  performed ;  thou  goest  to  thy  grave  in 

peace :  and  tliy  memory  shall  endure 

when  more  ambitious  names  are 

dead.       Faithful    mule, 

farewell ! 

25         - 


SHOUTING    CHURCH'S    FATE 


Chapter  XXXII. 


As  I  was  departing  from  Shakerag,  having  buried 
my  mule,  I  descried  in  the  distance  an  old  man  sitting 
under  a  wide-spreading  oak,  with  his  forehead  rest- 
ing on  his  left  hand,  absorbed  in  meditation.  Upon 
approaching,  I  recognized  Brother  Safety  Valve,  of 
former  years;  and  being  wearied,  I  alighted  to  ex- 
change courtesies  with  my  father's  friend  and  mine. 
He  reminded  me  of  Elijah  lodging  under  the  juniper 
tree,  the  very  picture  of  a  prophet  of  a  past  genera- 
tion, over  whose  whited  locks  a  hundred  storms  had 
swept,  and  in  whose  soul  a  hundred  dreams  had  burst. 
He  looked  up  as  I  dismounted  and  a  little  pleasure 
gleamed  upon  his  face. 

"Red,"  said  he,  "I'se  mighty  proud  to  see  you  onct 
mo'  in  this  life.  How  is  the  good  Lord  dealin'  with 
you,  son?" 

"I'm  sure  it's  a  privilege  to  meet  you  again,  Uncle 
Safety.  How  are  you  getting  along,  and  what's  the 
news  about  Shouting  Church?" 

"Ah  me !"  sighed  the  aged  man,  shaking  his  snowy 
locks  for  very  grief.  "Shouting  Church  is  like  unto 
the  seven  churches  of  Asia,  which  was  blotted  ofif'n 
the  face  of  the  airth  fur  thar  wickedness.     Ah!  Red. 


H 

C 
J 

pa 

1/1 
< 

u 


CO 

<; 

fe  :: 
C    , 

X 
U 
oi 

X 
u 

> 

w 

c/2 

X   a; 

D^ 
-J    O 

■a,    w 


U 

u 

o 

H 

o 


O 

O 
< 


(387) 


388  Good  Gumption 

the  vial  of  the  Ahiiighty's  wrath  has  been  emptied  out 
on  ole  Shouting  Church  at  las'.    Ah  me !"  ^ 

At  the  l)are  mention  of  that  name  the  old  man's 
cheek  turned  ashen,  while  his  staff  fell  from  his  right 
hand.  He  looked  the  ver}-  picture  of  vain  regret.  His 
eyes  filled  with  tears,  which  flowed  down  his  cheeks. 

"What  in  the  world  is  the  matter  now,  Uncle 
Safety?"  I  asked. 

"Mercy,  chile!    What  ain't  the  matter?" 

"Do  tell  me.  Uncle  Safety.  It  makes  no  difference 
how  sad  the  news  may  he.     Tell  me  all.'' 

"Well,  Red,  long  afore  yo'  day,  an'  atter  yo'  day, 
too,  so  fur  as  that  is  consarned,  a  set  of  religious  job- 
bers, that's  what  I  calls  'em,  come  traipsin'  through 
the  Ian',  pullin'  everybody  into  the  church,  makin'  reli- 
gion so  dead  cheap,  that  the  man,  'oman,  or  chile  that 
couldn't  git  it,  didn't  have  the  al^ihty  of  er  average 
dirt-dauber.  If  a  man  said  he  believed  in  the  man-in- 
the-moon,  these  jol)bers  said  it  was  sufficient,  an'  afore 
he  could  sneeze,  they  haltered  him  up,  an'  led  him  into 
the  church." 

"Didn't  they  instruct  the  people  on  the  subject  of 
repentance?" 

"Bless  you,  dear!  That  wasn't  the  right  tune  to 
bring  converts  in  rapid.  They  didn't  have  no  time  to 
let  a  mourner  repent.  No,  chile ;  they  had  a  patent 
process  which  fotch  'em  through  in  ten  minutes." 

"How  long  did  these  patent  converts  hold  out?" 

"In  gen'ally,  I  s'pose,  from  one  to  six  weeks.  In 
that  time  the  froth  was  clean  wore  off,  an'  the  sow  re- 
turned to  her  wallerin'  in  the  mire.  Fur  erwhile, 
things  'peared  oncommon  prosperous,  an'  it  looked  as 


Shouting  Church's  Fate  389 

how  the  Millennium  was  jes  round  the  corner;  but, 
chile,  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  wasn't  thar,  an'  righteous- 
ness has  kerwalloped  herself,  an'  tooted  her  far'well 
horn  'bout  ole  Shouting  Church." 

"Don't  you  approve  of  revivals.  Uncle  Safety?" 

"Thar  now!  chile.  Revivals,  whar  thar  is  the  good 
Spirit  an'  common  sense  an'  decency,  is  altogether  an- 
other matter.  But  arthquakes  an'  volcanoes  an'  fools 
an'  hypocrisy  is  what  ole  Safety's  er  talkin'  'bout. 

"What  else,  Uncle  Safety?"  inquired  I,  anxious  to 
hear  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter. 

"Well,  er  heap  of  things ;  I  hardly  know  whar  to 
begin.  Fust  an'  fo'must,  howsomever,  er  sort  of  ri- 
valry got  hatched  up  betwixt  St.  Bootjack's  Chapel 
an'  Shouting  Church.  An'  it  started  on  this  wise: 
The  St.  Bootjackers  got  to  coaxin'  mighty  nigh  all 
the  childun  in  the  neighborhood  to  thar  church  of  er 
meetin'  days,  givin'  'em  sugar  rags  an'  gimcracks  an' 
one  thing  an'  tother,  ontel  Shouting  Church  Sunday 
School  come  in  er  ace  of  runnin'  dry  an'  bustin'  up. 
So  the  Shouting  Churchers — an'  here's  whar  the  Devil 
come  in — up  an'  detarmined  to  have  er  Christmas  tree 
fur  to  fetch  the  childun  back.  I  has  noticed  that  the 
Devil  is  mighty  fond  of  trees,  my  boy.  You  know  how 
it  was  in  the  garden,  when  the  ole  sarpent  p'inted  out 
the  tree  of  knowledge  to  Eve.  Sometimes  he  'sumes 
the  form  of  pride,  an'  loiters  under  what  folks  calls 
f am'ly-trees ;  an'  the  nex'  shrub  he  clum  was  the 
Christmas  tree." 

"So  you  had  the  Christmas  tree?" 

"W^hat?  Me  have  er  Christmas  tree?  Ole  Safety 
Valve,  who  is  jes  turned  his  eighty-fust  year,  an'  has 


390  Good  Gumption 

been  er  fightin"  fur  Zion  these  three-quarters  of  er 
century  all  but  ?    Not  me,  chile." 

"Who  managed  it,  then.  Uncle  Safety?" 

"Bless  you,  chile !  I  think  Ole  Nick  was  in  the  top  of 
it,  an'  all  the  dancers  and  ungodly  professors  in  the 
county  at  the  bottom  of  it.  Members  what  never 
'tended  meetin'  from  one  revival  to  another  was  the 
chief  cooks.    It  was  er  monstrous  frolic." 

"Did  it  draw  the  children  back?" 

"Draw  ?  Sakes  alive !  It  drawed  every  chile  in  ten 
mile  of  Shouting  Church.  The  superintendent  'lowed 
how  every  child  who  was  present  on  the  Sunday  befo' 
Christmas  would  be  entitled  to  a  gift  on  the  tree.  Ac- 
cordin'lv,  at  the  meetin'  befo'  the  tree  doin's  was  to 
come  off,  thar  was  seven  hundred  childun  at  Sunday 
school,  buzzin'  like  er  set  of  bumblebees.  Draw? 
Yes,  chile;  it  drawed  like  er  mustard  plarster." 

"Were  the  children  pleased  with  the  tree?" 

"Might'ly  fur  er  couple  of  days;  an'  they  made  the 
neighborhood  lively,  tootin'  thar  tin  horns,  bangin' 
thar  drums,  and  bustin'  thar  pop-crackers.  But  after 
that,  they  'lowed  how  nuther  the  superintendent  nur 
nobody  else  could  fool  them  with  ten-cent  toys.  So 
on  the  nex'  Sunday  atter  the  Christmas  tree  thar 
wasn't  enough  to  make  er  decent  pie." 

Here  the  venerable  old  man,  in  whose  composition 
there  was  a  rich  vein  of  genuine  humor,  pausing  in  the 
narrative  he  had  become  so  much  interested  in,  lit  his 
pipe,  and  leaned  his  snowy  locks  against  the  tree  to 
rest  awhile.  After  a  few  moments  of  apparently  deep 
reflection,  he  resumed  the  thread  of  the  story. 

"That  ain't  all,  nuther,"  said  he. 


Shouting  Church's  Fate  391 

"What  else,  Uncle  Safety?"  said  1,  profoundly  in- 
terested myself. 

"Well,  some  of  'em  what  does  er  pile  of  things  'sides 
sayin'  thar  pra'rs,  tuck  er  notion  that  the  church 
needed  er  hundud  spittoons  fur  the  terbacker-chawers 
an'  snufit-dippers  to  dreen  tharselves  into  durin"  di- 
vine sarvice,  as  if  the  chief  part  of  it  was  to  spit  ruther 
than  pray.  So  the  conference  'p'inted  er  committee  of 
five  sisters  to  hatch  up  er  way  to  git  the  necessary 
money ;  an'  what  er  committee  of  five  women  can't 
hatch  up,  in  my  judgment  can't  be  hatched.  They's 
wus'n  er  incubator.  Tn  kose  they  had  er  plan  on 
foot  by  nex'  conference,  to  buy  all  the  spittoons  in  the 
United  States  all  but;  an'  Canady,  too." 

"Wliat  was  it.  Uncle  Safety?" 

"Well,  chile,  they  rigged  up  er  carumpus  they  called 
er  church  festival.  They  charged  er  dime  to  go  in,  er 
dime  to  stay  in,  an'  er  dime  to  come  out.  They  sole 
ice  cream  an'  lemonade  an'  gingercakes  .fur  ten  times 
what  they  was  wuth ;  an'  if  you  gin  'em  a  five-dollar 
bill  to  change,  the  sassy  gals  would  scoot  off  on  tiptoe, 
turn  up  thar  nose  at  3^011,  an'  laugh  fit  to  kill  thar- 
selves, but  never  gin  you  er  cent  of  change  back.  If 
you  axed  'em  fur  it,  they  w^ould  up  an'  put  thar  thumb 
to  thar  nose,  an'  wiggle  thar  little  finger  at  you,  sayin' 
they  was  makin'  money  fur  the  Lord." 

"I  suppose  they  bought  the  spittoons?" 

"Yes,  bless  you !  An'  then  they  detarmined  to  raise 
mo'  money,  to  put  up  a  horse-rack  in  the  churchyard, 
when  thar  was  no  mo'  need  of  a  horse-rack  than  thar 
was  of  a  locermotive.  But  they  thought  the  church 
wouldn't  let  'em  dance,  so  they  sot  up  fur  another 


392  Good  Gumption 

frolic  in  the  shape  of  er  festival  or  fa'r,  or  some  sich 
mess.  An'  they  picked  out  all  the  plumpest  an"  buxom- 
est  gals  in  the  bunch,  an'  sot  "em  in  charge  of  the 
wheel  of  fortune,  an"  the  art  gallery,  an"  the  post 
orfis,  an'  sich  like.  The  gal  what  turned  the  wheel  of 
fortune,  showed  the  fellows  who  they  was  gwine  to 
marry,  whilst  the  gal  at  the  post  orfis  handed  'em  out 
er  letter  from  thar  sweethearts.  In  kose,  every  ole 
bachelor  an'  widower  an'  all  the  young  bucks  in  the 
community  stood  'roun',  pay  in'  twenty-five  cents  to 
have  thar  fortunes  told  an'  make  the  gals  giggle. 
Mind  you,  I  ain't  ob lectin'  to  the  voung  folks  havin'  er 
little  fun,  but  I  think  it's  onreasonable  fur  'em  to  have 
it  at  the  expense  of  the  Lord." 

"They  put  up  the  horse-rack,  I  suppose?"  said  I. 

"Put  it  up?  Bless  you!  They  put  up  half  er  dozen 
of  'em ;  an'  when  they  got  tired  puttin'  up  horse- 
racks,  they  said  the  church  steeple  ought  to  be  made 
er  leetle  higher.  So  in  kose  er  passel  of  gals  was 
'p'inted  to  rig  up  another  scheme  fur  mo'  money.  An' 
what  vou  think  it  was  this  time?" 

"I  have  no  idea.  Uncle  Safety ;  it's  hard  to  tell  what 
a  committee  of  girls  will  do." 

"That's  er  p'int-blank  fac',  chile;  an'  I  speck  I  bet- 
ter let  the  matter  drap  right  on  the  spot." 

"Don't  stop.  Uncle  Safety." 

"\A'ell,  chile,"  said  the  old  man,  straightening  up. 
"it  was  on  this  wise :  Thar  was  er  man  to  be  hung  down 
at  Toadville,  an'  you  know  Toadville  ain't  nowhar 
from  Shouting  Church ;  an'  in  kose  a  monstrous  crowd 
was  expected  at  the  hangin'.  So  the  gals  di skivered 
thar  was  er  mio;"htv  chance  to  rake  er  sisfht  of  monev 


Shouting  Church's  Fate  393 

fur  the  church;  an"  on  hangin'  day  they  rented  all  the 
groun's  fur  some  considerable  distance  roun'  the  jail, 
an'  charged  twenty-five  cents  admission.  Thar  was  er 
lot  of  scrawny  cedar  trees  in  the  space  erbout  the  jail, 
which  they  called  'resarved  seats,'  an'  whosomever 
clum  up  'em  had  to  pay  fifty  cents  extry.  So,  if  you 
b'lieve  ole  Safety,  every  cedar  tree  was  filled  tell  the 
limbs  was  erbout  to  break  ofif,  an'  the  groun'  erroun' 
'em  was  packed  fur  two  hundred  yards  er  mo'. 

"Ah!"  moaned  the  old  veteran,  "they  built  the  stee- 
ple higher,  but  it  was  another  repertition  over  ag'in  of 
the  Tower  of  Babel.  It  was  fur  the  pride  of  man,  not 
the  glory  of  God :  so  br'iles,  an'  variances  an'  confu- 
sions, an'  misonderstandin's  an'  sich  like  sprung  up 
among  the  members,  ontel  thar  was  no  peace  nur 
union  amon'st  'em.  An'  the  church  went  down,  down, 
down — fust  one  withdrawin',  then  another,  tell  the 
church  completely  busted  up,  an'  is  now  advertised  in 
the  county  paper  fur  sale.  It  makes  my  ole  heart 
blee'— " 

Here  old  Safety  gave  vent  to  his  tears,  and,  apply- 
ing his  well-used  handkerchief  to  his  eyes,  wept  and 
so1)bed  over  the  ruins  of  his  Zion. 

I  resumed  my  journey,  my  own  eyes  moistened,  and 
after  a  ride  of  several  miles  came  in  sight  of  Shouting 
Church,  over  whose  closed  doors  was  nailed  a  broad 
plank,  on  which  was  written  in  large  black  characters : 

FOR  SALE! 


MY     AUTOBIOGRAPHY 


Chapter  XXXIII. 

It  was  a  winter  night,  and  1  sat  by  the  fire  in  my 
study.  As  the  embers  glowed  in  the  open  fireplace,  i 
mused,  something  like  this : 

The  great  have  made  their  record,  and  been  gath- 
ered to  their  fathers;  the  wise  have  shone  like  stars, 
whose  light  now  is  quenched  in  darkness.  Adam  is 
dead;  Moses  is  dead;  Washington  is  dead;  Tennyson 
is  dead;  Bismarck  is  dead;  Queen  Victoria  is  dead; 
the  wise,  the  great,  the  noble,  the  geniuses,  are  dead 
or  dying — and  I  don't  feel  very  well  myself.  H'm.  I 
thought,  I  must  prepare  materials  for  my  biography. 
It's  a  debt  I  owe  to  my  fellow-countrymen  and  to  pos- 
terity.    So  I  turned  to  my  beloved  wife. 

''My  dear,  get  your  pen,  ink,  and  pad,"  I  said.  '  T 
want  you  to  jot  down  a  few  items  which  I  neglected 
to  give  to  my  biographer,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Squeedunk, 
who  is  to  ])ul)lish  my  'Life'  when  T  am  no  more." 

Myself  (dicfafijig)  :  Nothing  would  Jiave  been 
more  out  of  accord  zvitJi  the  feelings  of  the  Rei'erend 
Heredity  Beans,  D.D.,  [be  sure  you  write  D.D.  dis- 
tinctly; it  means  a  heap,  you  know]  than  to  have  the 
story  of  Jiis  life  rehearsed  before  the  public.  So  mod- 
est, so  gentle,  so  shrinking,  he  has  made  it  difficult  for 
his  biographer  to  secure  first-hand  materials:  and  but 
for  the  fact  that  they  are  so  abundant  elsezvhere  ive 
(394) 


w 

< 
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o 


o 

ta 
> 

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c 


O 

1-1 
O 
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H 

< 
o 

Q 

H 
O 
•— > 

O 
H 

O 
>^ 

< 


(395) 


396  Good  Gumption 

should  despair  of  ever  knowing  the  man  in  his  true 
greatness.  He  ahvays  avoided  publicity,  and  never 
took  part  in  the  questions  of  the  day,  unless  com- 
pelled to  do  so  by  force  of  circumstances.  [What 
are  you  laughing  at,  Polly?]  The  boy  Heredity  zvas 
precocious  to  an  unusual  degree.  His  teachers  zvere 
under  the  necessity  of  restraining  him  from  overtax- 
ing his  brain,  so  diligently  did  he  study. 

Polytechnic:  I  thought  you  told  Wax  the  other 
day  that  he  must  not  be  discouraged  with  his  lessons, 
that  when  you  were  a  boy  you  could  never  see  any 
sense  in  them  either.  And  I  understand  trigonometry 
now  better  than  you  do,  sir. 

Myself:  But  you  see  we  ain't  writing  your  biog- 
raphy, little  Miss  Smarty.  Now,  quit  laughing  and 
go  on  writing:  On  one  occasion,  an  oz'erbcaring 
schoolmate  began  zvithout  cause  to  abuse  young  Beans, 
and  jerking  his  hat  from  his  head  tossed  it  into  the 
mud,  threateniuii  him  with  blows.  He  bore  this  in- 
sidt  patiently,  for  it  was  against  his  high  sense  of 
Jionor  to  hgJit.  Had  he  followed  the  bent  of  his  otvn 
fiery  nature,  he  woidd  have  resented  this  insult  and 
fought  to  the  bitter  end;  but  he  obeyed  principle  rath- 
er than  passion.  Beans  retired  to  his  room  weeping 
great  tears.  The  more  he  thought  over  the  insult,  the 
more  angry  he  became.  He  could  scarcely  restrain 
himself:  Jiis  nerz'cs  tzvitched.  He  clinched  his  fists 
and  started  for  the  door,  intending  -to  thrash  the 
zvicked  boy;  but  again  he  bozved  to  the  sacredness  of 
right,  and  sat  dozvn.  It  zvas  painful,  but  it  zvas  he- 
roic. A  second  time  the  great  pent-up  fire  began  to 
consume  him.     In  righteous  rage  he  started  for  the 


My  Autobiography  397 

door,  intending  to  make  jelly  of  his  foe..  He  opened 
the  door,  saw  the  boy,  ivent  back,  locked  the  door,  sat 
down,  and  reproached  himself.  It  zvas  a  great  strug- 
gle, but  it  zuas  also  a  sublime  triumph.  The  boy 
knocked  angrily  at  the  door.  Young  Beans'  first  im- 
,pulse  was  to  go  out,  and  with  one  fell  blozv  slay  his 
persecutor.  It  was  a  quick,  hard  struggle  between 
vengeance  and  forgiveness.  Finally  forgiveness  tri- 
umphed— and  flic  heroic  youth  jumped  out  of  the  win- 
dow. 

Polytechnic:  AMiy,  Red,  everybody  will  think  you 
ran  from  the  boy. 

Myself:  Do  you  think  so?  Then,  put  it  this  way: 
The  boy  knocked  at  the  door.  Patience  and  forgive- 
ness could  endure  the  strain  no  longer.  Young  Beans 
jerked  the  lock  off  the  door  in  his  haste  to  resent  the 
insult  he  hod  received,  rushed  at  the  boy  like  an  un- 
caged tiger,  and,  with  clinched  fist,  knocked  the  boy, 
tzvice  his  siae,  ten  feet  into  the  air.  The  youth  fell 
zvith  a  great  thud  to  the  ground,  zvhereupon  our  hero 
put  his  antagonist's  head  betzveen  Jiis  legs  and  zvore 
out  a  blue-back  speller  on  his  quivering  person.  When 
at  last  the  boy  zvas  free,  moved  zvith  terror,  he  ran 
and  jumped  through  Red  Beans'  zvindozv  and  hid  in  a 
chicken-coop. 

Polytechnic:  Why.  Red  Beans!  Ain't  you 
ashamed? 

Myself:  \Miat,  Polly,  dear?  Don't  you  see  that 
sounds  better?  Now,  do  please  stop  that  laughing, 
and  write  fast:  I  may  die  any  time.  At  the  first  call 
of  his  country.  Heredity  volunteered  his  services,  and 
jollied  that  immortal  cavalry  company,  knozvn  in  his- 


398  Good  Gumption 

tory  as  The  Tiger  Dragoons.  Thrice  lie  was  elected 
captain,  and  thrice  refused.  He  cared  nothing  for  titles 
and  the  tinsel  of  zvar,  but  was  ambitions  only  to  cross 
swords  with  the  enemy.  His  military  genius  displayed 
itself  in  all  of  the  hundred  battles  in  zvhicli  lie  fought, 
but  it  zvas  at  the  battle  of  ChanceUorsville  that  he  won, 
his  most  enduring  fame  and  brightest  laurels.  The 
enemy  zi'as  pressing  hard  on  our  lines:  and  the  Dra- 
goons, shot  dozvn  by  a  terrible  fusillade  of  artillery, 
zvere  retreating  zi'ith  depleted  numbers,  z^'hcii  young 
Beans,  sitting  his  Jiistoric  mule  like  an  Apollo,  rallied 
his  dispirited  comrades,  and  charged  the  death-gener- 
ating battery  on  a  distant  Jiill,  captured  forty  cannon, 
turned  them  on  the  foe,  and  zuon  tJie  battle. 

Polytechnic:  AMiat  a  whopper! 

Myself  :  T  know ;  but  this  is  not  intended  to  be  a 
history  of  the  war — only  a  biography.  Successful  in 
all  departments  of  life,  it  z^'as  in  the  pulpit  that  Beans 
attained  the  most  signal  results.  He  zvas  eloquent  in 
no  small  degree.  It  zvas  impossible  for  the  dullest 
hearer  to  sleep  under  his  ministry.  He  possessed  all 
the  qualifications  of  the  orator — his  presence  zvas 
comnmnding.  his  voice  resonant,  his  gestures  grace- 
ful, his  rhetoric  a  model,  his  soul  a  pillar  of  -fire,  liis 
thought  a  cataract  of  logic  ami  emotion.  He  could 
nez'er  find  a  church  that  zvould  accommodate  the  anx- 
ious multitudes  that  fain  zvould  have  hung  upon  liis 
lips — and  hundreds  of  disappointed  zvorshipers  every 
Sabbath  were  turned  away  from  the  church  doors. 

Wax,  Butter,  and  Lima:  Pa,  when  was  that? 

Myself:  Oh,  bother,  children!  Don't  you  know 
that  T  am  not  writing"  up  the  church  minutes,  but  just 


My  Autobiography  399 

plain  biography?  Here's  a  nice  new  almanac;  look  at 
the  pictures.  Let's  go  on,  Polly:  Beans  zvas  by  na- 
ture a  poet.  Had  he  cultivated  the  uiiise,  he  zvould 
have  made  a  name  that  li'ould  have  outlived  time  it- 
self. He  was  a  student  of  nature,  in  ivhich  he  found 
the  subjects  of  his  art:  and  his  most  splendid  poems 
are  based  on  eommon  things.  Hear  him  as  he  sings 
in  his  ''Ode  to  a  Bu::zard:" 

Buzzard  great  and  Bussard  true, 
Hozv  I  wish  that  I  were  you! 
Arable  bird  of  the  black  wing, 
Take  the  tribute  tliat  I  bring. 

We  see  here  the  afflatus  of  the  poet,  the  inspiration 
of  a  true  son  of  nature,  and  the  genius  of  a  master  of 
verse.    Xo  one  can  read  these  lines  zvithout  weeping. 

We  nozu  turn  to  Dr.  Beans  as  a  husband. 

Polytechnic:  Oh  me! 

Myself:  N^othing  could  have  been  more  beautiful 
than  his  family  life.  His  consideration  for  Jiis  z^'ife 
marked  him  as  a  model  husband.  He  sought  to  grati- 
fy every  desire  of  Jiis  darling  Polytechnic,  especially 
evincing  Jiis  ezrr  deepening  affection  in  tJic  little 
things  of  life,  zvherein  is  shoz^ni  the  nmn's  highest 
Zi'ortJi.  He  sacrificed  ezrrything  for  his  zcife's  com- 
fort, and  placed  his  time  and  money  at  her  disposal. 

Polytechnic:  Red  Beans,  what  system  of  ethics 
do  you  follow?  Don't  you  know,  you  lazy  thing,  that 
often  T  have  to  pull  you  out  of  the  bed  and  wash  your 
face  to  get  your  eyes  open  ? 

Myself:  But  that  wouldn't  do  to  go  into  a  biog- 
raphy, my  little  cherub.  Are  vou  ready  to  go  on? 
Now  then:  As  a  letter-zvritcr.  lie  has  had  fezv  equals. 


400  Good  Gumption 

A  letter  zvritten  during  a  visit  to  New  York,  breathing 
the  tenderest  affection,  is  here  submitted  as  a  speci- 
men of  his  epistolary  skill: 

My  angel  Polly:  I  have  spent  weary  days  and  sleep- 
less nights  longing  to  catch  one  glimpse  of  you  again; 
and  though  it  has  been  but  fzvo  days  since  your 
charms  raz'ished  my  vision,  it  seems  a  dozen  milletP- 
niiims.  Thus  you  discoz'er.  that  notzvithstanding  zve 
have  been  joyously  married  a  number  of  years,  my 
loz'e  gains  momentum  zvith  each  fleeting  second,  so 
that,  like  a  torrent,  it  is  ever  sivelling  as  it  szveeps  on- 
ward to  the  seek  I  shall  write  you  again  in  half  an 
hour. 

Now  write  my  parting  words.  [Why,  you  ain't 
dead  yet.]  I  know;  but  a  biography  must  have  an 
end,  and  I  think  I  foresee  how  it  will  be.  Be  quiet, 
children.  Polly,  you  are  laughing  too.  Now  write : 
At  last  the  end  came,  serene  and  beautiful.  Death 
was  to  such  a  soul  a  benediction.  The  birds  seemed 
to  have  a  szveeter  chirp,  the  clouds  a  softer  gloiv,  the 
flozvers  an  intenser  odor.  The  devoted  wife  and  be- 
loved children  stood  by  the  bedside,  zvhere  angels 
seemed  to  be  hovering  on  celestial  wings.  The  heart 
stopped,  the  spirit  fled;  but  the  last  zvords  of  Heredity 
Beans  zvere: 

'•THE  WORLD  IS  ROUND  AND   FUNNY!" 

(But  all  this  was  before  T  sat  down  to  write  this 
real,  true  chronicle  of  my  life.) 

The  End. 


mm 


'ii''isii*i',^. 


ill 


iiiiisiiliil! 


! 


H!! 


